


Equillibrium

by the-eagle-of-masyaf (Dunkelherz)



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Anal, Angst, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Curses, Drama, Explicit Language, M/M, Male/Male, Masturbation, Minor Character Death, Oral, Oral Sex, Past Abuse, Rape, Romance, Slash, Torture, Violence, Work In Progress, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-24
Updated: 2012-08-27
Packaged: 2017-11-12 19:07:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 51,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/494669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dunkelherz/pseuds/the-eagle-of-masyaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Betrayed by his own kind, he had lost everything. To save what's left of him, Vergil has to take a dangerous path while Dante has to choose who'll survive the cruelty of fate. Nero will realize that his purpose was sealed a long time ago and that all his choices have already been made. In the end, only one will live to save humanity in a world full of evil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

## Prologue

He was standing in the lake near the shore, the water high enough to almost cover his hips. There was a low thunder rumbling through the sky, as rain was pouring down on them. The drops covered the tracks of tears on his face as he silently cried, too overwhelmed from what he just had heard. He could hear softly lapping of water before someone stopped in front of him. He didn't look up and kept his focus on the water in front of him.

"Nero." His voice was soft as he called his name as it was barley a whisper and he felt new tears running down his face. He couldn't look at him. He didn't want to.

He reached out with his right hand and a single finger touched Nero's right cheek – it felt like it burnt him. He quivered at his touch. The man took one step forward so he could cup his cheek with his full hand and Nero caught himself as he was leaning into his touch. His hand was warm when everything else was cold. He figured he could stay like this forever – his hand was like his connection to the living.

"Look at me"; he said, brushing his thumb over his eyelid as he had closed his eyes at his words. His thumb drew small circles over his skin and suddenly, he started to lift his head very slowly. A raindrop fell from his lashes down on his face, running along his cheek till his jaw. The only noise he could hear was the rain and his own blood pumping through his body. He was standing so close and his breath quickened.

"Dante, I…" But he couldn't say any more. He wouldn't have known what to say anyway, he just wanted to break the silence, wanted to hear his own voice as he needed it as prove for that he was still here – alive. But he couldn't say any more as the elder's lips had captured his. His hand was still resting on his cheek as he slowly grabbed the backside of his head with it his thumb still drawing circles on his heated skin. It was a soft and gentle kiss as his lips almost didn't touch his, nothing like the first one they shared. He felt how his body reacted on its own as he leaned forward to get more of the man in front of him. His hands found his shoulders as he desperately tried not to fall down as his legs were giving away under him. He opened his mouth a little and felt the other male's tongue enters his. Their chests were pressed together as he could taste Dante on his lips. He wanted to deepen the kiss, he wanted more, he needed more, but at the same time he wanted that it could last forever, that they would stay forever in this lake while rain was pouring down on them. So he slowed down, teasing the other male with small licks of his tongue as he ran his hands down his back. He could feel how Dante lifted his left hand to put it down on his hip. Fingers hooked into his belt as he dragged Nero further into his own body. A small moan escaped the young man's mouth as he could feel every muscle of the others body pressed against his own.

At last Dante pulled away and a low whimper came from Nero at the loss of the touch. With half-closed eyes he looked at him and he could see that his lips were red and slightly swollen from their kiss. "We should go", his deep voice washed over his body like the rain did. "You'll catch a cold", he told Nero as his voice was only a whisper and his right hand dropped down to lay on his right hip lazily. Nero's eyes caught a single drop of rain that was running down Dante's jaw dripping down of the junction between his neck and shoulder. He wanted to know what it would feel like if he would shove the fabric that covered his skin away and trace it with his tongue. He felt his mouth gone dry and shook his head. His gaze caught the water around them and he could see a small track of blood swirling around Dante's hips.

"You're hurt", he heard his voice say as his focus kept on the crimson track.

"So are you", was his answer as he didn't move. One of Nero's hands rose and lay upon his own stomach. "It already starts to heal", he whispered. He lifted his gaze to met Dante's. "Why does it hurt so much?"

The older one sighed. "Because you know that it's the truth", were his calm words as he knew that Nero wasn't talking about his wound.

"I wish we would've never accepted this mission." Anger was swimming within his voice and he could feel how it started to burn his insides. He clenched his hand to a fist.

"Life is never about wishing", was his reply and Nero hated him for that. He stared angry at Dante, biting his own lip so hard it would bleed. Lightning broke through the sky and only half a second later thunder rolled down from the mountains surrounding them. The rain got heavier. Dante broke away from him taking one step forward and stopped as he was standing next to him. A hand of his stretched out to lie upon his left shoulder squeezing it gently.

"We should go", he repeated his words his gaze focusing somewhere near the shore.

Nero nodded slowly – he was right, they should go. But he didn't know where to. Back to his old life? That was not possible. Not after this fight. He was wondering if there was still something left of him after all this. He had the feeling that his very own self had vanished at the same time as he had vanished. His body felt like an empty shell, his soul somewhere lost within the past. It would never be the same anymore and he didn't know if he could take it.

As Dante started to try to walk away, a hand captured his, fingers lazily brushing against his own.

"About what he said – does it change anything between us?" Nero asked him, as he looked the other direction not daring to meet his eyes.

"Everything", was all he replied as his vision started to swim. "It changes everything." His body stiffened.

Nero let go of his hand and it dropped back into the water. His words were like a knife pressing into his heart and with every beat it cut deeper. Breathing became a heavy burden as he tried hard not collapse. He may have won this battle but he had the feeling that he had lost everything. He could hear how Dante started to move.

"You're coming, kid? Or do you think you might grow a couple of inches if you stay long enough in the rain?"

There it was. His nickname and the cockiness in his voice he fell in love with. Arrogant bastard. But Dante was wrong. Some things would never change. But still… he wished for things that would never happen and even if there was a slight chance that their fate could actually change – everything was lost now.

The son of a whore…

He felt the shame rising within. Those words he spoke and he knew they were true.

… yet only the image of a lost past.

Was this all he would be? An image of a person that once existed? He realized that his whole existence only based of an evil plan of a half-devil. There was no father nor was there a mother. He wasn't conceived but created and born by a whore. He would look in the mirror and all he would see was a ghost of a person that shouldn't even exist. As for Dante… He looked at the man and only saw his back.

"Tell me Dante", he began, "Is this really me?" The older one stopped within his steps and slightly turned around. Nero looked at his hands. "Am I still… myself?" His voice cracked.

"You're everything you want to be."

Nero swallowed the lump that was building inside throat. "But not for you" he breathed.

Dante shock his head. "No."

"Then this is over."

Us.

He waited for his answer and it felt like seconds would turn into hours. Nero closed his eyes as he heard his own breathing.

Finally, he could hear how the other one shifted. "Yes." It was a whisper as he only breathed the answer but it was clear and loud within his ears. His world turned upside down as realty sank in. His heart stopped for a second and it seemed the rain stopped as well as the world stood still. There was nothing he could feel, nothing he could hear. There was no water, no rain, no thunderstorm, not even Dante was there as his heart broke. He knew within an instant that something died inside him and it would never come back. But perhaps the same happened to Dante. The second he spoke those words the Nero Dante knew had died right in front of his eyes. Maybe he felt the same pain – he hoped so.

"I'm nothing like him", he told Dante, pure hate in his words as he spoke.

"You'll never be."

"Yet we're the same." His voice was hoarse.

Dante didn't reply anything. Silence fell over them and it felt so heavy on Nero's shoulders that he wanted to drown within the pain.

"Don't say that, kid", he told Nero.

"Because the truth hurts?" He laughed but it sounded more like a cry. "Then we should keep on pretending."

"Keep on pretending what, kid?"

Nero sighed and turned around to stare into Dante's blue eyes. He tried to smile, but he couldn't.

"That I'm not Vergil."  



	2. Long Hard Road Out Of Hell

He had brought this upon himself; he knew that all too well. His urge to gain more power had overwhelmed him – his need for power had made him careless, and now he was paying for his mistakes. Darkness was surrounding him as unbearable heat was eating through his body, while his bones were as cold as fresh fallen snow. But maybe Mundus liked to mess with his mind. After all, he knew too well what a sadistic bastard he was. The first couple of days, nothing happened. He lay in the dark, not knowing what would happen next. He waited for them to take him away, to torture him until he would become mad – but none of that happened. He could see nothing – he could only hear the screams of those poor souls that had sinned in their lives, and were now being punished.

He spent his time within a cloud of numb thoughts, recalling the last events that brought him here in the first place. He could still hear his brother's voice; he could still see his face right in front of his eyes before he took the final step and fell back into the endless darkness of hell. Their fight, their last conversation, it all repeated itself inside his head, over and over again. Maybe the torture had already started without him knowing.

He wouldn't have known if he had been here for hours or days, maybe weeks or even months. He had lost his feeling for time as his body grew numb, as it couldn't move. His muscles were stiff and he yearned to stretch his legs, to lie down and rest his head against the cool floor and just sleep. But his restraints wouldn't let him. There was no release.

He almost couldn't hear the endless screams of the other prisoners anymore as a new voice started to resonate within them. At first, he almost couldn't hear it, and when he could, he thought it was just a whisper. But it grew stronger and stronger, and his mind slowly began to realize what it was that he'd heard.

The voice of a woman.

A woman was crying, her cries only a small whisper that almost didn't reach his ear. But it grew stronger and stronger, and as it became louder, her cries became more and more that of screams.

Vergil...

Dante!

As he recognized the voice, it was already too late. He couldn't keep the pain away that was slowly overtaking his mind. It felt like a wave that was crushing down on him and threatened to drown him.

No. He wouldn't give in.

But the screams seemed to pierce right into his soul.

With his mother's screams, the memories returned. He tried to shut them out, to keep them away, to bury them deep inside – just as he did all those years. But now he couldn't do anything. He closed his eyes as her screams broke through his mind. He was tired, so very tired. His fogged brain created the old pictures of a past night he had tried so desperately to forget.

It had been sixteen years since he had watched his own mother's death. He had never felt so helpless and powerless in his entire life. As he watched her pitiful death, heard her drowning in her own blood, he swore to himself he would never – ever – feel this powerless again. But now he felt the exact same thing after he had tried so hard to gain more strength. Hell, he would've killed his own brother, and now what? He was rotting in hell, chained to a wall, his back scraping against the rough stone, his legs folded underneath him. His arms were spread out to each of his sides, and held by powerful chains that were glowing a soft red. Of course he would use a spell – Mundus was no idiot, he knew too well that no chain that was not cursed would hold him. After all, he was a son of Sparda.

He shook his head.

His mother was lying in front of him as her blood was staining his own clothes, a demon hovering about them. There was some of her flesh that was still stuck to his claws as a creepy smile formed on his face, showing some razor sharp fangs. He could taste the salt of his own tears on his lips again.

Run...

He had seen her form the word with her lips, as she was no longer able to speak due to the demon that had cut through her throat, ripping it open.

The demon would turn, but he still couldn't run away as he was still holding his mother's hand even though the arm that belonged to this hand wasn't connected to her body anymore. The demon lifted a reaping hook that was lying in one of his paws, ready to strike down and cut his head right off his shoulders. As he watched in horror as the blade came crushing down on him, his dying mother used her last strength to push up her body to block the blade from hitting him.

He would never forget the sound of how the reaping hook found his mother's flesh as it cut deep into her chest. He pulled the weapon out off her, a huge pile of blood forming quickly underneath her broken body. At this moment he knew his mother was dead.

The pictures repeated themselves over and over in his mind. He didn't know if it was a trick of Mundus or if his mind had brought him down this dark road by itself. But he wished it was Mundus – it was easier to hate him than himself.

He felt like he was going mad right before they came for him. Two guards opened the chains that kept his pitiful body bound, but he didn't have any strength left to fight them. He hung heavily between their bodies as they dragged him along a long, dark corridor that was only barely lit by candles. They walked through several doors, and he had long lost count how many of them they had entered. He didn't even try to look up to see where they brought him, either.

As they walked through the last door, he was brought to the middle of a small room with a very low ceiling. They pushed him on his knees as they pulled his arms behind him and bound them together so that his elbows and wrists were touching each other. Another chain was hooked into his bonding and attached to the ceiling, and before he knew it, his arms were lifted above his head with a great force, causing him to scream as pain rushed through his body. It felt like his joints had broken during the treatment. A collar was put around his neck; a chain dangled from it before one was also hooked into a ring on the ground. This position forced him to lean forward as his arms were pulled back. His forehead almost touched the ground as he wasn't able to lift his head. It was damn uncomfortable.

He could hear footsteps approaching as the door cracked open. A foul smell entered the room and filled his nose.

"You little maggot," he could hear the creature grunt in a husky voice. "By the end of the day, you will beg for mercy."

Vergil scoffed. Not really.

The first strike hit him without warning, but he welcomed the pain for it would keep his focus somewhere else than watching the death of his mother over and over again. Small rivets cut deep into his skin as the cat o' nine tails hit his back over and over again as every strike grew stronger. He grunted at the pain, clenching his teeth together but it was no use. Soon he could hear his own voice joining the sound of the strikes as he screamed out in pain. He threw curses at the demon behind him, swinging the whip in its hand, wishing for all of their deaths as he felt his blood dripping down his body. After his back was nothing more than a bloody mess, it finally stopped, and he sighed with relief.

"Shall I give you mercy, maggot?"

He could feel the demons breath crawling over his neck as it leaned closer to his ear.

"Fuck you," he grunted through clenched teeth. He could hear the whip rushing through the air as the demon lifted his arm, but the blow never came.

"Stop."

His voice, deep and low, washed over his body and threatened to drown him. He felt his body become hot as hate built inside him.

Mundus...

"Are you not broken yet?" the voice asked him as it was rumbling through his body.

"You're foolish, Mundus. You'll never break a son of Sparda," he replied, swallowing the pain that gnawed at his body.

He could hear how the door behind him opened and another person entered the room, but this time he could smell roses. He felt a knot starting to grow in his stomach.

"But you will, son of Sparda. You will."

He heard someone shifting behind him and before he could realize it, he felt acid burning through flesh and muscles. A scream echoed from the walls surrounding him and it almost sounded inhuman. His vision began to blur as he so desperately tried to focus on the smell of roses and not the brutal pain on his back.

He didn't know how long they kept torturing him. After a while he wasn't able to tell if it was the whip, acid or the burning iron that attacked him as his whole body was nothing more than pain – it was the only thing that seemed to exist.

He had lost consciousness again, being brought back with strong, aromatic salt. His head tried to jerk up but was held in place by the strong chain, and he whimpered at the sudden pain that exploded within him.

He heard small footsteps as a person walked around him, stopping right in front of him. He saw a pair of petite, clean feet in front of his eyes. The nails were painted in a dark red, and clearly belonged to a woman. He tried to look up, but couldn't. The smell of roses was going to overwhelm him.

His mind was no longer working as his body was nearing collapse from exhaustion. He wanted to say something, but he no longer could find the words. How pitiful...

"Vergil..." He could hear a voice calling.

Vergil? He blinked a few times.

Yes, that was his name.

He felt a hand brushing his hair softly. Small fingers traced over his cheek and he caught himself leaning into the warm touch.

"My strong boy..." the voice whispered into his ear as quick fingers opened the collar around his neck. It dropped to the floor with a loud rumble. His neck was stiff but he still tried to lift his head.

"It's almost done."

He saw blond hair falling around soft shoulders and a blue dress dancing in front of his eyes.

"You're so brave..." She smiled into his ear as she pressed her lips against his skin, placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

He looked up and into her face as the walls and chains were suddenly gone, and red roses started to bloom around him.

He parted his rough lips, bleeding from where he had bitten them to muffle his cries. He was breathless like he had run a marathon as he thought he would lose himself in those gracious eyes.

A broken whisper tore from his lips as he forgot everything.

"Mother..."

 

 

##### Chapter 1: Long Hard Road Out Of Hell

 

 

He woke with a silent scream upon his lips as the claws of the nightmare were still stuck in his skull. Cold sweat covered his body as he tried to free himself from the messy sheets which wound around his body. His heart was pumping rapidly as he tried to catch his breath.

He was absolutely sure that he could still feel the blood trickling down his spine from where the whip had met his skin, but as he reached behind him to feel his back, there was only smooth skin.

Nero took one deep breath and buried his head in his hands as he sat up in his bed. As his breath became more even, he took a look around the small apartment he'd been living the last couple of months as he tried to figure out what had just happened again.

He swung his legs around to sit at the edge of his bed, his Devil Bringer lying softly in his human hand. He stared at the soft glowing fingers.

Thirteen months had passed since the events of the Savior. Thirteen months since Dante had broken right in in the middle of an annual ceremony to praise the Dark Knight to kill his holiness – but Dante didn't only kill the priest back then; he'd also killed Nero's old life with his actions, without even knowing it, as he never would.

The young man sighed as he flexed the fingers of his devil arm. The people of Fortuna had rebuilt the city after nearly everything was destroyed, and almost nothing led back to the event that almost cost their lives. But the memories were still fresh, and even though life seemed back to normal in Fortuna, it wasn't.

People got scared.

He could always feel their eyes on his arm when he walked through the streets. There wasn't hate or anger, but simply fear of the demonic power that rested underneath the glowing skin, and he wasn't even mad about that, because sometimes it frightened him, too. After he got the sword, Yamato, something changed. His devil side had awoken and granted him a new level of power. He could trigger during combat, fighting with the strength of a demon as he used his arm to send all those poor bastards right back to hell. But the voice that echoed in his head, the voice that lusted for more power, never stopped.

Nero pushed himself up and walked to a pair of black denim pants and a dark red hoodie that lay crumbled on the floor. As he pushed his head through the hole of the hoodie and arranged his clothes, he took a look through his one-bedroom apartment. It was small and simple, nothing luxurious or fancy. There were a few boxes that he used as furniture, and since he didn't really own anything except for his bed and some clothes, it seemed bigger than it actually was.

Kyrie would've hated it. Ever since the events thirteen months ago, she was afraid of small rooms. He couldn't blame her for that. On that day, she had lost not only her brother, but also her faith. The first couple of days after he had rescued her, she clung to him like a child that couldn't be on its own. She was afraid of being alone; having terrible nightmares and the loss of her brother nearly killed her as she drowned in the thick waves of sorrow. He had been there for her, and he always would be. Nothing would ever change that.

He loved Kyrie. She was his sister – and that was a fact that had pained him more than fighting against this big, ugly statue of the Savior. If he would've kissed her right away after he'd rescued her, he probably would've known right from the beginning – but he hadn't done that, and the next chance for them to kiss took another three weeks to come.

It had been a nice and quiet evening. He had helped the other men to remove rubble from destroyed houses as Kyrie had helped to provide the people with food and clean water. They had taken a long walk that led them outside of the city, which upon a small hill they could watch the sun set. She was sitting right next to him, her feet tugged underneath her body, one hand resting on his thigh as his arm lay upon her shoulders. He had pulled her close to him, smelling her hair as he'd rested his cheek upon her head. It was their first quiet, peaceful time in weeks, and he'd longed for it.

As the sun dove them into a golden light and the last rays crept over the city tossing long shadows between the urban canyons, she had looked at him, and he knew it was the perfect time. Before he could've stopped it, his lips had captured hers in a small and gentle kiss. She was surprised by his actions, shy at the beginning as he had felt her stiffen underneath his touch. She'd return his kiss with several small pecks, unsure on what to do. One of her small hands had settled upon his, and he could just tell that she didn't know what to do or how to react.

After a long minute he broke the kiss to look her in the eyes and he just knew, even though it was his first kiss, it shouldn't feel like this. It felt like…

…kissing his sister.

And he didn't want that. He had loved Kyrie for so long that he didn't know what to do as things didn't turn out as he had expected. She had looked at him with those big, brown eyes, and he just knew things would never be as they wanted them to be.

He could still remember those words he had spoken back then.

Kyrie… I think… this – this isn't working.

And she had looked at him and just given him a smile that hurt him deep inside his chest, not because of the fact that he broke up with her, but because of her generosity that he'd always admired. One of her hands had found his cheek, brushing her fingers softly against his skin.

No, it isn't.

Her words echoing in his memory, he was relieved that she had felt the same, not wanting to break her heart. But at the same time, he was sad for something that he'd lost, even though he never really had it. Someone to love him with all their heart; not caring about the demonic arm or about the truth and his devil side. Kyrie would love him, like a sister would, accept him with everything he offered, but it wasn't the same as he wished for someone who would love him for all that there was – to be loved emotionally and physically. Kyrie just wasn't the one to do this.

The window next to him burst into thousands of splinters as glass and broken pieces of wood rained down on him. He rolled to his side, taking a hold of Red Queen, leaning against the wall by his side. A loud shriek cut through the air, making him flinch as the sound pierced through his ears right into his brain, exploding in a white light of pain. He pressed a free hand against his head, trying to keep himself on his feet as the loud scream echoed from the walls. A blur of black collided with his body and swept him off his feet, his head hitting the ground hard as the thing above him cut its claws deep into his shoulders. He brought his human hand up, cutting through its body. He could witness how the body transformed into black fog where his knife would've touched the flesh, quickly reforming into its true self. His sword did no harm at all.

With a grunt, he used his Devil Bringer to reach at the claws in one of his shoulders, getting a hold of the limb, throwing it away and smashing it against the wall. The beast screamed loudly as Nero fought back. As he rose upon his feet, he got a quick look at the thing that was attacking him.

It was a demon, there was no doubt about that, and it had the form of a giant bird. Its beak was wide open, showing razor sharp fangs as it produced another one of its shriek.

Nero clenched his teeth together, wrapping his fingers even tighter around the hilt of Red Queen.

"This," he pointed the tip of his sword at the bird, "is starting to piss me off."

He ran forward, taking a high jump as his blade tried to cut through the bird in mid-air. But the beast was faster, jumping from its place to the opposite side of the room, where it was hovering in the shadows.

Give it to us!

He could hear the low rumble of a voice inside his head as the beast in front of him didn't move its beak – but he instantly knew that the voice belonged to the demon.

"The hell you're talking about?" he spat back, as he steadied one of his legs before he sped toward the bird, the blade right in front of him. The demon tried to avoid the attack by leaping higher in the air, but Nero saw its move coming. Before the tip of the sword sliced through the bird's stomach, he put all his of strength into his legs to push himself from the ground, meeting the bird in air as he swung Red Queen with all his power forwards, triggering his devil only seconds before cutting right through one of its wings. Blood splattered on him as he landed gracefully on one of his knees, looking up through a curtain of silver hair. The bird screamed in agony as it still tried to fly again, but its broken wing was no use. The demon fell upon the floor, pressing its body against the wall.

A pained scream was heard from the demon as it surrendered to the injury inflicted by Nero's sword.

You're not human.

The voice in his head sounded surprised.

Nero scoffed. "Tell me something new for once."

The bird tried to stand again, taking a small step forward.

Give it to me! it demanded again.

Nero raised a single eyebrow. "I don't think you're in the position to demand requests." With his last word, he rushed forward, crushing his Devil Bringer down on the bird's head. Before it could shake off the dizziness from Nero's blow, he grabbed the thing by its neck, jerking it up to look it in the eye.

"What do you want?" he demanded, his voice sounding more like a deep growl.

I need it... Master… needs it... Give it to me, give it to us!

"What? What do you want?"

The sword… need the sword!

The bird tried to get away as he swung his left wing, but Nero crushed him further into the wall, using the upper side of his Devil Bringer to press into the bird's throat as he let go of his weapon.

"Red Queen?" He looked at his sword from the corner of his eye, the blade stabbed into the ground. "No way!" He let go of the demon's neck, grabbing the sword and pushing it through the devil's belly so it was pinned to the wall. One of its limbs tried to grab Nero, but he simply took one step backward so it couldn't reach him.

Yamato…. Give us Yamato!

He blinked, looking at his demonic arm.

Yamato?

He narrowed his eyes, raising the Bringer in front of his eyes.

He will come. He will get it. You cannot let him have Yamato. We need it. Give it to me!

Nero felt breathless. "Who? Who will come?"

The son of Sparda.

A bright light blinded Nero from further action as a blast wave tossed him away from the bird. His body collided with another wall, and he could taste something metallic as blood was spilling into his mouth as he hit the ground. Stunned, he lifted his head just in time to witness how three thunderbolts pointed at the creature pinned by Red Queen on the wall. Only seconds later, flashes were engulfing the beast before its body caught fire, and within a second was swallowed by it. It didn't even have time to scream as the life vanished from its body. His remaining form turned into ash, caught in the moment. Nero could still see the features of its face, how the beak was wide open as it had wanted to scream. He shook his head to get the ringing out of his ears.

He slowly rose to walk towards the bird, trying to put the pieces of information together so that he could understand what had just happened. He didn't come very far as a loud rumble shook the earth underneath his feet, and a bright light was shining through the broken windows. A storm approached and his focus caught the sky, where he saw dark clouds tower up, covering the moon quickly. He slowly walked outside his apartment, gripping Red Queen on his way, holding it in a defensive manner in front of his body. His shoulders stiffened as he felt a great force surrounding his body, crushing down on him and almost pushing him to his knees as the pressure grew stronger. He looked towards the sky and found the source of the bright light. He had to cover his eyes as he looked up into three bright orbits, hovering several feet above him.

"What kind of shit is that?" he murmured to himself, feeling how Red Queen became heavier in his hand as the force seemed to grow.

"You thought you could escape?" he heard a voice ask, growling so low that he almost couldn't understand the words.

"Who the hell are you?"

A chuckle answered him.

"A low, unworthy one like you hasn't earned enough respect to know, less to speak my name …" the voice murmured, as the orbs became bigger. "When he comes to you…" the voice continued, and Nero felt an invisible hand reach out for him, taking its hold around his body so he wasn't able to move, "you will, however, deliver him this message: When you thought your brother could kill me, you were just as foolish as he was. I will take my revenge. You will never be free of me."

The grasp around his body vanished as Nero stumbled forward, catching his balance quick.

"And who the fuck is he?"

"The son of Sparda."

Nero rolled his eyes. This shit again…

Before he could respond, the orbs disappeared, the storm died, and the sky was as clear as it was only minutes before. It was completely silent; the only thing Nero could hear were the crickets chirping their music into the night. Fortuna was at peace and it seemed as if he was the only one who had been able to witness the event that had just occurred.

"The son of Sparda, eh? Well, I only know one dude who can call himself that," he smirked to himself. He turned around to catch some things he would need if he wanted to leave town. A sudden rush of adrenaline caught his body as he felt a slight tingling in his demonic arm.

It had seemed as if his life had stood still the last thirteen months, as if something were missing. Now he felt the rush of life running through his veins.

Rays of sunlight touched his skin as he walked through the broken door inside his apartment. He grabbed some things and stuffed them into a backpack before getting the key to his bike.

"Time to visit some friends."


	3. The Red And Blue Pill

He drew Ebony out of its holster, holding the gun straight at its target before pulling the trigger. The bullet hadn't even found its target yet as he whirled around while he pulled out Ivory, triggering it as well. The bullets flew through the air and within half a second found their target. Blood spattered as the demon's head was thrown backwards and Dante could now see the wall behind it as he looked through the holes that were left by his guns. A grin formed on his face as he jumped up in the air, drawing Rebellion. He held the sword with both of his hands as he swung it over his head to let it crush down on another beast, cutting the body into two halves. Before his feet touched the ground again, he spun around in mid-air, using the falling body of the demon to push himself even higher. He turned, taking Ebony and Ivory in both hands, pulling the triggers several times. As he landed on the floor again, the last demon was drawing his last breath before its body collapsed on the ground.

He whirled Ebony around one finger, grinning before blowing the steam rising from the barrel. He put a foot on the dead demon, resting his hand on his knee, looking around with proudly as he admired his own work.

"That wasn't so bad," he murmured as his gaze searched the old storage house. He suddenly turned around, pointing the guns in the dark and fired. The thunder of the gun was echoing from the walls as the the last capsule fell on the floor. He waited, as he could hear slow steps approaching.

"Geez, Dante. Your bullets weren't even touching me. You're not getting out of shape, are you?" he heard the female voice calling as a tall, blonde woman was stepping out of the shadows. He put Ivory back where it belonged before shaking the head.

"What are you doing here, Trish?"

A smirk found its way upon Trish's face as she took slow steps to walk around him, focusing on him as she did. An elegant hand was used to pull back the sunglasses that she was wearing. She eyed him.

"Just checking on my old partner." She smiled as she rested her hands on her hips, the black leather corset barley covering her upper body.

He smirked. "You're not here to steal my reward while I had to do all the dirty work?"

She lifted a hand to lay it in a dramatic manner upon her chest. "Seriously, Dante, that hurt," she told him, rolling her eyes at him, before her hand fell back to her side. She took another step so she could stand in front of him. Her arm reached out and her hand cupped his cheek. He jerked away.

"Cut it out."

"I actually came to make you an offer," she told him, her smile never leaving her face as she walked slowly around him, one hand now lazily resting on his shoulder. Her fingers brushed over the fabric, leaving a tingling trail.

"And this couldn't wait until after I'm done with the job and collected my money? Seriously, Trish, if you think I'm gonna share..."

"Shut up." She stopped behind his back, embracing him from behind, resting her chin upon his shoulder. He could feel her smile. "Remember the days we used to be partners?"

"I'd rather not," he replied, freeing himself from her touch, turning around to face her.

"But we had good times," she purred softly at him, taking one step back.

Dante rubbed his neck, staring at the ground before looking up again. "We had good times, but the end was pretty ugly. Don't you remember?"

Trish laughed. "And that's why I would never be your partner again, Dante. I got an offer for a mission. I could use some help with it. The job pays pretty well." She smirked with her last words.

"Money, huh? How much?" He rose one eyebrow.

"Enough to finally pay off your debt."

Dante let out a laugh that sounded more like barking. "I didn't think there was enough money in this whole world to pay off my debt. Okay, now tell me, where's the hook?"

Trish flipped one of the dead demons with her foot to the other side, looking at the ugly blood-spattered face. "Hook? What's that supposed to mean?" she asked him innocently.

Dante sighed and turned around. "I really don't have time for your games." He started to leave.

"Oh, yeah, because your pizza's getting cold? Come on, Dante, you've spent the past months slaying low-minded demons in this hellhole of town, not earning enough money to pay your rent. You have nothing better to do, so just say yes and come with me to Lintfort."

Dante stopped abruptly.

"Lintfort?" he asked.

Trish nodded. "Yeah, Lintfort. Interested?" she asked.

"Depends," Dante muttered. "Never heard of it."

Trish shook her head. "Wouldn't have thought so. Lintfort is a coal mine a few hundred miles from here. You know, coal, the little black rocks that you use to... "

"Cut to the chase, Trish."

"Well, you know, a few weeks ago some weird things started to happen there after the workers drilled a new shaft. People were killed, Dante. Their bodies came up with the lift; they were literally shredded. They had to identify them on the basis of their teeth. The survivors think they woke something up down there. They want me to go down, looking for the thing that did this to their men."

"And what do you need me for?"

Trish's face formed a frown. "I don't know what to expect down there, Dante. No one ever saw the thing that did this to these men..."

Dante slightly turned his head to look at Trish out of the corner of his eyes. "What? Don't tell me you're scared."

"I'm not. Let's just say I have a big amount of respect. I saw the pictures of the bodies. I've never seen such brutality before. And that says a lot, you know, since I served Mundus and saw what he was capable of doing."

"So let me guess: no one wants to go down there and work."

Trish nodded. "The company who runs the mine is willing to pay everything to get rid of this problem. With every day that passes without the miners working, they're losing money. A lot."

Dante scoffed. "Knock yourself out, kiddo." He started to walk towards the gate that stood wide open; dim light was falling through it, casting big shadows on the wall behind him.

Trish couldn't believe what she just had heard. "Wait! Dante, are you nuts? You can't turn this down!"

"I can and, oh, I believe I just did. Go play with your little demon, Trish, but I'm still waiting for a challenge; for something big."

"Something big? Like, let's say, a big ass statue with fucking ugly wings and some punk who thinks he can wield a sword?"

As Dante reached the gate, he stopped. "Maybe," he answered her, not turning around and instead looking into the dark sky of the night.

Trish sighed. Slowly, she took one step after another until she was only an arm's length away from him. "What are you really waiting for, Dante?" Her voice was soft.

"Nothing," he murmured. She lifted her hand to reach out for him, but he instantly turned away.

"Stop doing this, Trish," he warned her.

"Doing what?"

"Acting like my mother. It's already enough that you look like her. I don't need a fucking babysitter."

"You're such a pain in the ass, Dante. Seriously. Stop wasting your time already. He's not coming back."

She could see how his shoulders stiffened. "I'd thought that before, and I was wrong." His voice was unusually soft and she almost didn't hear his whispered words.

"Fine," she finally gave up. "Act like this. I don't give a damn. I'm going to leave for Lintfort tonight."

He nodded. "Let me now what it was you found down there when you're back."

She grinned. "No way, old bastard. If you wanna know, you have to come look for yourself. I ain't telling you shit." She walked around him, strolling to her bike that was parked a few feet away under a light post.

He watched as she swung one leg over the saddle, starting the engine before she pulled down her sunglasses. "Come back to the present, Dante. Don't let the past drown you." With that, she took off, leaving him behind her.

He shook his head as the memories started to find their way into his mind. This was definitely not the right time to indulge in the past. He lifted Rebellion onto his shoulder as he walked back to his red sports scar. He opened the door, laying Rebellion down on the back seat before sitting himself behind the wheel.

He didn't start the engine as he just stared into nothing. He was wondering how a good day could end this bad. Damn Trish. She always knew what was going on in his head even though he tried so hard to keep her out.

That sword... was used to separate our world from the demons. I can't have something of that kind of power floating around, now can I? It's gotta stay in the family.

I need this.

He could swear, just swear, that he heard the voice of his brother instead of the kid's, Nero. As he remembered those words, a chill went through his whole body. As he heard those words, he'd thought for a second that it was not Nero standing in front of him, but his brother. Truth to be told, Nero did look a little bit like Vergil, when he was his age. Even though he knew that Nero was nothing like Vergil, that it was a whole product of his fantasy, he liked to think that Yamato chose Nero because of his resemblance to its former master. Yes, he would like to think that... because it gave him the feeling that his brother was not truly gone – at least not all of him.

He started the engine, suddenly punching the steering wheel with his fist as anger began taking over his mind.

Trish was right.

He had to let go of the past. Vergil was gone. He'd waited the past several months for a sign of him. He somehow thought that the events in Fortuna did mean to tell him something. That Yamato was rebuilt, it couldn't just be a coincidence. He wanted it to be more. He wanted it to be Vergil. But the reality wasn't like that.

And what would he have done if Vergil really did show up? What did he expect? That his brother would have suddenly changed? That they wouldn't try to kill each other? That they - he laughed at this thought because it was too ridiculous - could be a family again? No. Vergil would never change. Never. Even if he did make it back to the world of the living... no.

But after the death of their mother, Vergil was everything he had left. He was his twin, and he was barely older than Dante, but he was the one that pulled them through. It wasn't like he had been lost without his brother, but it would have been a lot harder, and hell, how hard it was even for them together. He shuddered at the memories that kept coming into his mind. Those years they spent together, he would rather forget them. Never again would he like to live through something like that. Not knowing what the next day would bring, not knowing if they would still be alive the next week.

But then something happened. Vergil changed and Dante changed. They drifted apart day by day – at first he didn't see it coming, and in the end, when he finally realized it, it was already too late.

Vergil had left him. Without a word, without letting him know. He woke up the next day with his brother gone. Vergil was gone. He was alone. Just like that, everything had changed. Just like that.

People said the night his mother died, he'd also lost a brother, and even though Vergil had survived just like him, the people were still right. That night, he did lose a mother and a brother. Mundus' devils might not have harmed Vergil, but they killed something deep inside him. Dante realized too late what it was that went missing on this night. After they had to run for their lives, they both changed. Dante wasn't as free and careless as he used to be, and Vergil aged years over night.

Dante sighed. He took the wheel and undid the handbrake to drive back to the Devil May Cry as a single tear rolled down his face before it fell on his coat, sinking into the soft fabric.

**Chapter 2: The Red And Blue Pill**

"So, you're twins?" A creepy smile formed on the man's face as his gaze flickered between the two boys in front of him. "How much for both of you?" 

One of them shook his head. "He's not for sale." He pointed his thumb at the other who was looking like he was in shock. His eyes were big and his mouth hung slightly open. Even though the brightness of a street light nearby didn't give enough light, the older man could still see the disgust on the face of the other brother.

"Pity," he said before raising a hand, touching the chin of the boy and turning his head from one side to the other, like he inspected an animal that was ready for slaughter. "I would love to see you suck him off." With those words, the other boy suddenly turned around, emptying his stomach in the middle of the street. He was slightly bent over, resting his hands on his knees to support himself.

"Don't do this." He whispered his words, not turning around to look at his brother.

"Trust me," he told his brother, his chin still wrapped in the dirty hand of his costumer.

"You're a good boy, aren't you?" the man asked him, before his hand dropped down, resting lazily on his shoulder before he turned it around so his knuckles would brush against the fabric of his clothes, wandering down his sides to his hips.

"One hundred," he suddenly said as he started to shiver at the touch. He strongly fought against his instinct to punch the other right in the face, breaking his fucking jaw.

"One hundred? I'm starting to think you're ripping me off, boy!" The hand found his back, rubbing gently up and down his spine. He leaned forward until his lips brushed over the shell of his ear.

"Fifty. And that's final. You either take it or you don't. But trust me, you don't wanna see me mad." He kissed his ear with his last words. The boy tried to get away from his touch but he quickly grabbed both his wrists, holding him right where he was.

The boy turned his head, looking around to face his brother. The other boy, still standing a few feet away, was trying to re-catch his breath as nausea was still consuming him. As he felt the eyes of his brother on his back, he turned his head.

"Don't," he pleaded, but his brother shook his head.

"Trust me," he told him again, before turning back to the man. "Fifty," he told him then. A big grin found its way on his face as he tugged the boy closer to his body.

"Don't worry. You won't regret it, not when I'm done with you." He glanced over the head of him. "I'll bring him back in no time. I promise he'll be still able to walk," he told the brother before turning around, never letting go of the boy's wrists.

"Unless you want me to fuck you mercilessly," he murmured quietly as he walked towards a dark alley where the light of the street couldn't reach the shadows. He shoved the boy behind a dumpster, pressing him against the cold wall. His fingers soon found its way underneath his clothes, roaming over his body like a starving man.

"Take it off," he told him huskily as he took a step back to get a better look at the young body. He did as he was told, opening the zipper from his black hoodie until he could push it over his shoulders, the fabric falling on the ground. He took the edges of the white tank top he was wearing underneath, pulling it over his head before it followed the hoodie to the ground as well. A chill ran down on him as his warm skin was exposed to the cold night.

He looked at the man, starting to think that the only thing that was left for him was to start drooling as he literally already fucked him in his mind.

"Oh, you're pretty," he breathed as he rushed forward, crushing his body against his as his hands traced his abs, running up and down his sides as his lips found their way to his throat.

He stood there, motionless. He was disgusted by the man and by himself, his gaze focusing nowhere as he tried to ignore the little moans the man gave as he touched him everywhere. He felt a hand traveling down his stomach until it reached the waistband of his trousers. Skillful fingers found their way underneath it, his hand cupping his sex before he wrapped his fingers around his cock.

"What's that?" he whispered into his ear. "You're not even excited." He pulled away, opening the boy's pants as he stared into his eyes. Never leaving his gaze, he was kneeling down, pushing his pants down far enough to expose his cock. "Really pretty," he said more to himself as his tongue reached out to lick its way all over his shaft. He could feel the boy shudder as he touched him. He opened his mouth to take him all the way in, and the boy gasped in surprise. His head bobbed up and down as he swallowed his cock, giving him his first blow job ever. Soon his body started to react to his touch, his member starting to get hard as he felt he was ready to vomit. He bit down on his hand, trying to keep the moans away. He hated him for that; he hated his powerless body that betrayed his mind. The man pulled his mouth away, using his hand to pump him as he looked up to the boy's face.

"You're such a whore," he told him, grinning with each word. Vergil's gaze shot down on him, anger and hate slowly taking over him. He finally decided that it was enough. He put his hands on the man's shoulder as he pushed him roughly away. "What...?" the man asked, surprised, as he fell down backwards, but couldn't say anymore as Vergil's foot found his face, breaking his nose. His head and the rest of his body flew backwards by the force of the kick. One hand shot up to his face, blood spilling through his fingers.

"You bastard! You fucking little bastard!" he yelled in pain, but Vergil rushed forwards, sitting down on the man's chest, pinning him to the ground with his weight. He grabbed the man's chin, forcing him to look at him.

"Don't worry," he told him, "You'll still be able to walk. Unless you want me to beat you mercilessly." He smirked before his fist crushed down on the man's face over and over again. His knuckles were soon covered in blood as bones broke underneath his blows, the yells of the man echoing from the walls of the alley. The yells turned into gurgles as he slowly started to choke on his own blood. But Vergil didn't stop. He hit him over and over again with both his hands before he suddenly stopped. The face of the man was nothing more than a bloody mess now. With wide eyes he stared at the boy above him, not able to speak anymore as his jaw was broken and most of his teeth were gone.

Vergil reached into his pocket, drawing a knife out of it and holding it in front of the man's face. He chuckled softly as he saw panic on his face. With a quick movement he cut through the man's throat, slicing it open as blood poured down on the ground. The man looked in silent shock at him.

"I guess I was lying," Vergil simply told him as he saw the life leaving the man in front of him before he was finally dead, his blood covering him. He quickly pulled away from the view that lie in front of him as he searched through the man's clothes, looking for his wallet. He found it in a pocket of his pants. As he saw what was inside, he scoffed.

"So were you." He threw the empty wallet away. The man had never meant to pay him; he didn't even have a dollar on him. He decided to continue his search and was looking through every pocket, hoping he would find a bundle of money or something that was valuable as well. But nothing. He found nothing.

He got up, looking down at the dead man, not feeling anything besides disgust. He looked down at his hands, covered in blood. Was this really him? How low did he sink... he was ashamed of himself.

Vergil slowly turned around, finding his way back to his brother. He saw him sitting underneath a street light, his head resting on his knees as he had pulled them close to his body. When he heard footsteps approaching, he got up. His eyes widened as he saw his brother, covered in blood and with his upper body naked.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, not moving from where he was standing.

"Don't be ridiculous," Vergil told him as Dante removed his own hoodie, handing it over to him while he remained with only a dark red t-shirt covering his chest. The older brother gladly took it and pulled it over his head.

"We need to go," he told his brother, not looking back as he started to walk down the empty street.

"What happened?" his brother wanted to know, jogging a little to catch up with Vergil.

"Reality found us, Dante. That's what happened. Reality found us."

XXX

He woke up, not remembering how long he had slept, the last fuzzy images of the past dream slowly slipping away as his mind drifted into consciousness. He looked around. His office was in the same condition as it had been when he had returned from the old warehouse, Trish's words coming back in waves into his mind. He stretched as he rose from his chair where he had been sleeping, taking his feet off his desk. He stared into empty space.

He hadn't thought of this night for many, many years. He never knew what had happened, for Vergil had never told him. But he still remembered looking up from where he was sitting, seeing his brother coming back out of the alley, covered in blood and with his hoodie and shirt missing. Those were the days where they both lived on the street after they'd run away from the orphanage, where they had lived for two years after their mother's death. Now he couldn't get rid of the picture of his brother's icy blue eyes that stood hard in contrast to the blood.

It had been his idea. They needed the money. He had seen it a few days before as he was wandering around the city, reaching a neighborhood that was no place for children at all. He heard muffled voices, moaning, and small sighs. He became interested and followed them, witnessing how a young boy, almost a teenager, was kneeling in front of a man, his dick in his mouth as he gave him a blow job. He watched till they'd finished, the white cum covering the boy's face as he licked it slowly away. The man gave him money, quickly adjusting his clothes before disappearing in the opposite direction.

But Vergil wouldn't let him. Dante always knew his brother felt responsible for him, and he hated how his brother was treating him. But to be honest, he was glad that his first sexual experience wasn't in the back of an alley on his knees while sucking some random stranger off. Now he wished Vergil could have said the same.

As he took an old pizza box, flipping it open and seeing it was empty, he felt guilt gnawing at him as he tossed the empty box away.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be. They weren't supposed to live on the street fighting with bums and rats about their food. Vergil wasn't supposed to sell his body to make some money for them to buy food and medicine. But it had been reality for them for a long time.

"But not anymore," he told himself as he glared at Rebellion, hanging from the wall to his right side.

When did he turn into such a pussy? He scoffed at his own foolishness.

He shouldn't think about those things. He shouldn't wait for a sign that would prove that Vergil still existed, that he was somewhere out there. He shouldn't hope for his brother to change if he's still alive. He shouldn't do so many things.

What he should do was to hunt devils and kill them, one by one. He took a few steps to get a hold of Rebellion, resting it on his shoulder. It was a familiar weight pushing into his body.

He was supposed to be Dante, a son of Sparda – not a whiny wuss that couldn't get over the past and the loss of his brother, only because of some punk that wielded Yamato. The events in Fortuna had caught him off guard; he'd never expected to see the sword of his brother again, and then there it was, lying in the hands of a boy that had the same look in his eyes as Vergil had.

No.

He shook his head. What the fuck was wrong with him? He wasn't like that. This was not him. Maybe he should go to help Trish. Maybe this was the mission he'd waited so long for. It was an opportunity for him to leave his thoughts behind while he could kick the ass of some demon. He smirked. Yes, he could do that and would like it. This town here was indeed a hellhole. It's depressing charm was getting to him.

He put Rebellion on his back, reaching for Ebony and Ivory, before heading to his door to open it. If Trish would think to collect the reward for herself, well, she was wrong. He was coming for it, too, and hell, how he needed it and Dante wasn't thinking about the money.

His foot found the door, not caring to use the doorknob, as it flew open. Fresh, cold morning air hit his face as he stepped outside, bumping into something solid and warm.

He was stumbling backwards, trying to see what it was that had collided into him. He turned his head, looking at a young man who was sitting on the ground, holding his head as his focus found Dante.

"What the hell?" Nero asked him, angry as he pushed himself up from the ground in one liquid motion.

"Fuck," Dante said to himself as he rolled his eyes, looking up and shaking his head. Fate was indeed cruel. Thirteen months had passed since the last time he saw the young man, and he never really thought he would see him again. What business would he have at Fortuna? Right, there was nothing. Unless some religious freak would want to open Hell again... well, you could never really know, so there was slight chance that it could actually happen. But other than that, no, he would've never thought to see Nero again and now he was here, standing in front of him on the same day where his thoughts would bring him back to the day he fought Nero over Yamato. Well, wasn't that a coincidence... not.

"Well, look what I've found," he smirked, eying the young man from top to bottom. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, a bright grin on his face. "If it isn't a lost little kitty."

He could already see how anger fumed from Nero as the young hunter threw daggers at him with his mere gaze. "And here I'm asking myself why I'd come," he murmured more to himself than to Dante, as he shoved the hunter to the side so he could enter the office of Devil May Cry. He wrinkled his nose as he saw the mess surrounding him. There were a few empty pizza boxes lying around the floor as well as on Dante's desk, the couch was covered with empty beer cans so that there was almost no space to sit, the drum set near the entrance was covered by an inch of dust at least and it smelled like fresh air never found its way inside the building.

Nero turned around as he realized that Dante didn't show any intention to follow him inside. "So I guess you were leaving...?" The question hung heavily in the air as Dante tried to figure out what he should do.

There he was: Nero, the Ghost of Christmas Past, standing in the middle of the Devil May Cry, probably wanting money, because truth was, that was the only thing people wanted from him lately these days. He sighed deeply, taking a hold of the door frame. He looked at those deep blue eyes, the soft blonde hair that was so bright it almost appeared to be silver, the blue coat he wore and his sword hanging from his back. He was a little bit smaller and his chin was brighter than Vergil's was, the lips a little bit more full but other than that, he really looked like his brother when he was his age.

Dante felt like he took the wrong exit off the Interstate and now he was heading straight to a place he really wouldn't want to be in.

"Still am," he finally answered him, attempting to turn around, but he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"I drove all night to meet you, Dante. I think it's better if you stay. There's something you should hear." The voice of the boy sounded husky as he spoke the words low, almost as if he were afraid the wrong person could hear him.

"Does it involve money?"

Nero looked surprised, shaking his head. "No, it doesn't, it..."

Dante pulled himself away. "Well, then I believe it has to wait. See, kid, some of us have an actual job to do and if you would excuse me, that is exactly what I'm going to do now: getting myself a big ass reward doing what I do best, killing devils."

He turned away, heading down the stairs that lead away from the office, but his arm was caught again in a firm grip. He looked own and saw Nero's Devil Bringer, his fingers wrapped around his arm, glowing in a very soft blue.

"I drove all night and day to get to you, Dante. The least you can give me are a few minutes for you to listen to what I have to say."

Wow – the boy sounded serious. He rose an elegant eyebrow as he looked at the boy from the corner of his eyes. The truth was, he really wanted to know why Nero showed up at the steps of his door after more than a year since they last met. But as he saw the Devil Bringer, knowing what laid beneath the flesh and muscles, he felt like running away. He could feel the power of his brother's sword resting within Nero. With Nero it was like taking the path to his past and he really wasn't up for that. But looking at the boy's serious face, he felt like he had no choice.

He sighed. "Alright. Fair is fair. You have three minutes to tell me what the hell you want."

Nero pulled him inside. "Not here. Close the door."

Dante looked surprised at the kid for ordering him around, but did as he was told as Nero found his way through the mess, sweeping a few cans off the couch before sitting down. He leaned forward, putting the tips of his fingers together and taking a deep breath. He licked his lips and opened his mouth, but closed it again, before opening again, starting to say something, before he stopped again.

"Seriously, boy, don't stretch it and just tell me," Dante growled as he stood in front of the boy, his hand clutched into a fist as he trembled in anticipation.

"Alright," Nero breathed out, before he locked his gaze with Dante's, "it happened last night. I woke up because of some... dream. I was attacked by a demon, a low minded little fuck. He wasn't much of a challenge for me." With those last words he flexed his Devil Bringer. "It tried to tell me something, kept on blabbering about some master and it..." He paused, note sure how to say it. "It told me it wanted Yamato."

There it was.

Dante was surprised. He could feel how his mouth hung slightly open, but he closed it quickly once he realized that Nero was staring at him. He cleared his throat. "And...?" he signalized the boy to continue.

"It told me someone was coming for it, and I shouldn't let him have it." Nero's voice was thick as his gaze dropped. "It told me it would be you."

Dante's eyes got bigger. This just kept getting better and better. Now he really, really, really wanted to know what Nero had to say.

"But before I could get more out of it, it was killed."

"Killed? By who?" Dante asked him, hearing how foreign his own voice sounded as he felt excitement taking over his body.

"I don't know. Looked like some kind of lightning, or energy."

"Like a thunderbolt?" It sounded a lot like Trish. But what would she be doing in Fortuna?

"Yeah, like that. But there's more. After it was killed, there was something approaching. I could feel its power, Dante. Not even during the whole Savior disaster I felt something like it. It didn't have a form, but there was a voice speaking to me. It told me to tell you this: When you thought your brother could kill me, you were just as foolish as he was. I will take my revenge. You will never be free of me."

It was silent for a long moment after Nero had finished. He looked eagerly at Dante, witnessing how the man stared off into empty space.

Some dude was after the Yamato, wanting it before he, Dante, would acquire it. Some voice telling him that Vergil had tried to kill it and hadn't succeeded whatsoever, and that it wants revenge. So far he got everything, but – what the hell? He didn't even have one clue what was going on, now wishing he would have just went on to join Trish, not caring about Nero or why he was at his office.

"Does it ring a bell, Dante?"

First things first: Why would he, Dante, want to have the Yamato? He gave it to Nero.

"Dante? Dante... Dante. Dante."

Second: Who the fuck pissed Vergil off so that he wants his revenge with Dante? This sounded absolutely crazy; it sounded just like his life.

"Hey! Dante!"

Dante jerked, staring at Nero as the young man stood in front of him, shaking him by his shoulders.

"Do you have any idea what this means?"

"No. I have no clue. But to think that Vergil can still get on my fucking nerves even though he's dead... whew, that's a bummer." He scratched the back of his head. But inside him he was wondering just how tight Vergil's grasp really was... he was dead, yes, but it seemed that he still owned Dante. No matter how hard he tried, he still wasn't free of him.

Reality sunk into him.

"Do you really want Yamato? I thought you gave it to me."

Dante looked at him. "I did and no, I don't want the sword."

"Then maybe we should find out who would think that," Nero suggested.

Dante frowned.

Yes. Maybe he should. He shook his head. "Yes, Nero, that's a good idea. I should do that. Now, go home before that little girl of yours cries her eyes out because you're gone."

Nero scoffed, scratching his nose as he looked away, a faint blush turning his cheeks a faint red. "She's not my girl..." he told Dante.

Two elegant eyebrows shot up. "Don't tell me you're getting scared at night and need someone to hold your hand while..."

"Shut up, jerk!" Nero shouted before his fist collided with his chin.

"This isn't just your problem, it's mine as well. Someone wants revenge on you, someone wants Yamato; that means he needs to come to me. We're together in this," he told the older slayer, as his blow threw him a couple feet away. He slowly rose to his feet.

"Still that same punk, huh? Alright, we're in this together."

Nero offered him, in a weird manner, his right hand. "Partners?" he asked Dante.

He smirked. "Partners."


	4. The Grey Among A Colorful World

_Partners... right._

The last time he had a partner it ended with some kind of relationship; Trish had started to act more and more like a mother, getting over-protective about him, caring too much. He knew she was simply afraid of losing him to death, but that's why he liked to work alone: no one would get involved; no one would get hurt if something were to happen to him.

The only reason for him to agree to this stupid idea was because it kept the only remaining link to the past close to him – Yamato. He knew it was wrong and he knew he entrusted the sword into the right hands; the only hands that were worthy of holding its shaft. But someone wanted the sword of his dead brother, and that meant at some point in the past this someone had had business with his brother. He could have just taken the sword back, dealing on his own with this whole new mess, but he was also afraid of it. The sword would always remind him of what he'd lost and he didn't want to lose himself in the past, but he was close to it, and that's what made all of this really dangerous for him.

He could already feel a growing headache. He was thinking too much. Thinking was never his strength; it was Vergil's.

He just did things, not thinking about consequences, and he wished it could always be that simple, but reality had found him. It was never simple; life wasn't simple.

Somebody was after the Yamato, somebody was after him, and it both was somehow connected with Vergil.

He didn't want to work with Nero, didn't want to clean up Vergil's mess, but he also felt like a damn child that wanted to impress his father in order to be near him. This was what he had waited for ever since he went to Fortuna and saw his brother's sword in Nero's hands. But now that he got what he wanted, he didn't know what to do with it.

Stupid.

That's what he was. He made a fool out of himself. He tried to convince himself that it was just another mission, nothing personal – but he knew better.

He drew a deep sigh as he watched the kid from his position behind the desk. Nero's eyes were big, either with admiration or disgust – Dante couldn't tell the difference.

"You planning to stay, or do you have your own place to crash?" he asked Nero, closing his eyes while he crossed his hands behind his head in a lazy manner. Nero was watching the wall where Rebellion, Ebony and Ivory hung.

"I don't really have anywhere to go," Nero answered without looking at him.

"I have an extra room... I guess you can have it. Hope you can pay your rent, though." Dante smirked.

Nero grinned as he turned around. "The way I see it, I should demand money from you to stay in this hellhole." He wrinkled his nose as he sat down on the edge of the couch.

"Take it or leave it, kid, I don't care," Dante said, as he closed his eyes. He could hear Nero moving on the red leather.

"So, what should we do?" he asked the older hunter, his voice quiet.

"I guess I should dig in my brother's past in order to find out who he'd pissed off."

"Then why don't start with that?"

Dante cracked an eye open.

"Because I wouldn't know where to look for it. I don't know shit about my brother."

He could almost hear how Nero's brain was working as he tried to put the pieces of information together. "But... he was your brother. How can you not know anything about him?" he asked in disbelief.

"Before he died, I didn't hear from him for six years. I didn't even know that he was still alive." Dante's voice was so unusually soft, Nero almost couldn't hear his words. The young man cleared his throat.

"So, nothing? We have nothing?"

"I wouldn't say that. We have what you saw, and what you heard. But, other than that... yeah, nothing."

He rose from his seat, stretching as he walked around the desk, heading for the stairs. "The sun's still shining. You know what that means, don't you?" he asked Nero, not turning his head as he took one step after another.

As Nero didn't answer, he said: "I should still be asleep, and that's exactly what I'm going to do."

"Wait, what? You're going to sleep? How can you do that now?"

"Don't be ridiculous, kid. If they want us, they'll come and get us. Simple as that. And when they do, I'll cut them in half." He opened the door to his bedroom before closing it behind him.

Downstairs, Nero was still sitting, looking at the spot near the stairs where Dante had stood just seconds before.

"Simple as that," he murmured.

**Chapter 3: The Grey Among A Colorful World**

_A fateful night more than a decade ago, a woman took her last breath and lost her life as a result of the cruelty only humans could bring..._

"We don't want your kind here."

"And I thought we made that pretty clear the last time we met."

"Maybe we need to teach her some manners."

He eyes were big, huge blue orbs filled with fear as she stared at the four men in front of her, blocking the alley. The moon was shining, creating long shadows which crept over the ground, threatening to swallow her. Fear was starting to eat at her.

"Let me pass," she started, trying to hide the trembling in her voice, clutching her wide, dark coat tighter around her small body.

The back of a hand met her cheek, throwing her head to the other side. She could taste something metallic. Another hand grabbed her wrists, shoving her against a nearby wall.

"A whore should act like a whore," the man hissed into her ear, licking her throat. She tried to kick him, but he used his legs and knees to pin her beneath him. She stared into his green eyes, not able to move as he held her wrists in a firm grip.

"I'm not a whore," she hissed, tears of anger running down her face. His breath crawled over her face – he smelled like beer, his padded lips slightly parted.

"Then tell me, what are you?" His voice nothing but a whisper, filled with lust.

"I'm a daughter of Fortuna, just like you are the sons of Fortuna. How can you do this to one of your sisters?"

She could see the other three men gathering behind the one who was pressing her against the wall. She could feel how he shoved one knee between her legs, pushing them apart. "Don't do this," she tried again, slowly realizing what was about to happen.

"You're like a child," he snarled, showing his teeth to her. "You didn't listen, and didn't leave the town. Now you receive your punishment. It's just fair, don't you think?" He gave her a bittersweet smile, a hand slowly traveling down her chest, opening the first buttons of her blouse.

"No!" she screamed, trying to fight him off. She freed one of her arms and legs, kicking him in the crotch and hitting his face. He was caught off guard, stumbling backwards as he fell down, his hands reaching down to hold his testicles. She rushed forward, trying to get as far away from him as possible.

"Bitch!"

She could hear him scream as she ran into the dark, but she was stopped immediately as something hard hit her in the back of her head. She saw stars as she fell down, the hard ground pressing into her body and scraping her knees. She turned around and tried to get up, but a foot that rushed down on her chest stopped her.

"You shouldn't have done that," another man told her, his long hair hanging wildly around his face. He was leaping down on her, gripping her blouse and ripping it open.

"Fuck," he breathed as he looked down at her pale body. The injured man stepped to his side, looking down on her as well.

"So, you're pregnant?" he asked, surprised, as she began to sob freely. She could only but nod, still hoping the men would have mercy, but her hope was fading. She could see that she had scratched the man in the face where her hand had met his cheek. He was leaning down on her, grabbing her knees and pushing them apart. He unbuckled his belt with one hand while he ripped at her skirt with his other hand. She saw their faces hovering above her, their eyes filled with pure hate and want. The one on top of her drew his lips near to her collarbone, blocking the moon out of her view. The world got darker around her, grabbing hold of her heart and soul. She suddenly knew that she couldn't get out of this situation, that there was no escape. There was so much hate – what could she do against it? No. There was no hope for her. But her child, her unborn child was something worth fighting for. There was hope for her child. She wasn't even near her due date; only six months pregnant, her belly almost didn't show, especially not with her wearing large clothes.

She closed her left hand to form a fist, trying to hit him again, but another man reached down, kneeling near her head, holding her hands.

"Oh, no you don't," he grinned, a dirty smile on his face.

She opened her mouth, ready to scream in her desperation even though she wanted no one to see her like this.

"You wanna scream? Go ahead and do it. Scream. No one will come, though; no one wants to get their hands dirty on a whore like you."

She closed her mouth. He was right, she knew that. No one would come to help her. Her fate in the people of Fortuna was gone ever since that day where...

Something hit her lip, splitting it open. She felt dizzy. Another blow hit her, and another and another, until she couldn't feel them anymore. Her right eye was swollen shut, her nose must have been broken, and she was sure to be missing some teeth.

As darkness threatened to take over her, she smiled in an effort not to cry. She could feel their hands on her, could feel the man move about her, but the pain in her head was numbing everything else. A single tear found its way down her face as she didn't cry for herself, but for her child that she couldn't protect.

Life was cruel.

And that was it.

XXX

 _A fateful night more than a decade ago, a woman took her last breath and lost her life as a result of the cruelty only humans could bring while a devil tried to save his own humanity._

He couldn't say for sure how long she had been laying there. Maybe an hour or two; the blood already starting to dry. There wasn't much left of her face. Her eyes were swollen shut, her nose was nothing but a bloody mess. Her clothes were torn apart. Even an idiot could see what had happened here.

He was kneeling down, looking at her with keen interest. One hand reached out to take a hold of her chin, slowly turning her face to the other side. There was no breathing, no heartbeat. The woman in front of him was dead.

She didn't deserve this.

He had heard her scream hours ago, but it wasn't his duty to save her. Life was cruel, it was as simple as that – the fate of this woman was sealed a long time ago, and there was nothing he could have done, even if he had wanted to. No.

This was life. It always left a bitter taste in his mouth. He swallowed hard.

A hand wandered down her broken body, over her chest and ribcage down to her stomach...

He could feel and see how it was swollen. He laid the palm of his hand on her belly, frowning. He didn't know for sure yet, but...

Yes. He could feel the child that was growing in her body.

It was still alive even though its mother must have been dead for hours now.

He stilled before he got up. He had followed the woman a few weeks now, tried to learn her daily routines so he wouldn't miss anything. For his purpose, she didn't have to die, but now she was dead... it made things easier for him, to say the least, but it didn't go the way he wanted it to and he just hated it when things went out of plan; his plan.

The child was what he'd been looking for, and even though it was human, it was still pure and innocent – not yet poisoned by the cruelty of the world; not poisoned by humans. Its mother was an outcast. He couldn't even understand why she didn't leave town, why she intended on staying there. The city was a filthy hole full of people who pretended to be something better than the rest of the world because they praised the dark knight, Sparda. But they were not better. They all were rotten from the inside. He could smell it. They tried to hide all of their ugliness behind their prayers, hoping to make it to heaven when their time would come... how selfish.

The child had to live, but not without a price. Even he wasn't that kind and even he wouldn't save a human child because he had a soft heart. No. This child should live for his purpose and his purpose alone.

He drew his sword, the tip of it pointed at the woman's belly. With one elegant cut, he freed the baby. Between flesh and blood he could see the small face. It wasn't the woman's due date yet, he knew that. The infant was tiny, the skin so thin he could see every blood vessel beneath it. It was a boy.

But it wasn't moving.

He reached down with both hands, getting a hold of the baby before ripping the umbilical cord off. He held the baby close to his chest as he looked down at the tiny face. He brought his lips near to the boy's ear, whispering ancient words that crawled through his head, embracing him like a soft, warm blanket.

He drew back, waiting for a heartbeat, and another one. The only thing he could hear was his own breathing. Nothing happened.

How disappointing. His shoulders dropped.

Maybe he was wrong. Maybe this child wasn't the right one. Maybe its fate was sealed before it could truly live.

But then he could see how a small hand moved ever so slightly. And then the head moved, and then it opened its mouth to draw in a small breath. The baby lived. Yet he could see that the boy was strong, no doubt about that, but he was still human; fragile and tender.

He truly was a devil. Putting such a burden on a child, how cruel... He scoffed. The boy would gain new power and maybe would appreciate it someday, but he for himself would lose something if he hadn't of already lost it. He wasn't so sure anymore if he ever truly possessed it. So maybe it was just fair, after all. A life for a life... well, not really.

He was kneeling down, taking the torn clothes off the boy's dead mother, and then laid the baby upon them on the ground before wrapping him up inside them. He stood up, smiling and looking down at the infant as he began to seal his own fate.

XXX

Nero slowly opened his eyes, cold sweat covering his forehead. He swallowed hard, realizing how thirsty he was. He turned around, groaning as he felt how stiff his neck was. He had fallen asleep on the couch, and even though it looked comfortable, it wasn't.

He ran a hand through his messed up hair.

He had those dreams more often now, and they all were different. He could still see the bloody body laying in front of him. He didn't know who the woman was that he saw. He didn't know why he was kneeling beside her in his dreams, reaching out for her and turning her head. He thought he saw a glimpse of a broken blue eye, but most of her blond hair had covered her face, the bloody strands sprawled over the remains of her face.

It was like a nightmare, but at the same time he had felt some sort of peace he'd never felt before. A peace that was buried deep inside him ever since the day he got his demonic arm. It wasn't the first time, though; he saw this woman in his dreams. Sometimes he was dreaming he was watching her out of the darkness of deep shadows. Watching her going shopping for groceries; the other time he watched her talking to a woman, wearing white clothes. But every time she turned her head, looking in his direction, he could see nothing but her deep, blue eyes, burning into his like they were watching his very own soul.

It scared him more than anything. With her gaze came a dark wave of bitterness that swallowed and chewed at him until he was spit out, leaving nothing other than the feeling of betrayal inside him.

He had talked to Kyrie about it, even with Credo sometimes. While her older brother had always became very quiet at those moments when he told him about the woman, Kyrie tried to comfort him by holding his hand – his human hand, while Credo kept staring at his demonic arm.

He remembered it as clearly as it was only yesterday. The day he lost his human arm, the day those dreams had started. They would come, crashing down on him, carrying everything away, leaving him behind, empty and hollow.

They were nightmares, but at the same time they left something inside him burning.

Sometimes he had caught himself looking at other women, trying to find a blond in the crowd at a vivid market place. But there were no blonds in Fortuna. The people of Fortuna were a nation of tall men and tall women. With their pale skin and their deep brown eyes, they had adapt to their tropical environment. And Nero just wasn't a part of that. He was smaller than most of Fortuna's men, but his shoulders were wider, while his cheekbones were higher, and his nose not as aristocratic. He looked nothing like them, his almost-white hair not fitting in the picture.

Sometimes he wondered if he really woke from a nightmare, or if he woke up right into a nightmare...

He looked through a nearby window. It was dark outside, and a quick gaze to his watch told him that it was already after 6 pm. It was almost winter; the trees would soon lose their colored leaves. When he came to Dante's office, he had already had the feeling that he could smell snow in the fresh, cold air. He heard footsteps above him and only a few seconds later he saw Dante coming down the stairs.

He wore old black jeans that had a few too many holes in them. His chest - as his feet - were bare, and Nero could clearly see muscles of Dante's abs moving underneath his skin with every step he took. He felt his mouth go dry at the sight. He shook his head as he realized he was staring at the other man. Dante stopped in front of him, looking down at the boy, his body only inches away from his face.

Dante grinned. "So, you up for going out tonight?"

XXX

Love Planet was something Nero hadn't seen before.

As he leaned on the bar, he watched a man and a woman dancing on the stage, embracing each other, teasing one another while they both stripped out of their outfits that barely covered anything. The woman lost her black bra, showing her breasts to the howling crowd of men beneath the stage. The man took her in his arms, pushing her upper body down while he ran a tongue over her throat all the way down to the valley between her breasts, a hand stroking over one of her thighs. It was an erotic sight and somehow scandalous for a boy like Nero, who had never witnessed something like that before.

Loud music was booming in his ears as he caught some of the lyrics right at the moment the singer sung something about fucking someone like an animal. He wasn't a prude; he didn't really mind what was going on or what was shown, but all the colors, the music, and the naked flesh that was everywhere were too much for his senses. He could feel the heat in his cheeks as he took his glass to his lips and downed everything in one go. The beer tasted bitter, but he liked it.

He looked to his right and saw Dante standing in a narrow corridor that led to the back of the bar, a young woman in front of him, leaning against a wall while he used one arm on the wall near her head to support himself. The woman was laughing, and Dante rose one hand to brush over her lips with his thumb. She smiled at him while she looked down, embarrassed, a soft red glow covering her cheeks.

He could see how Dante laughed, using one finger to play with one of her dark strands.

It looked good for Dante and bad for him. He just wasn't that kind of guy. His only love so far was Kyrie. They shared a few kisses, but nothing more. Every time he tried to take one step further, she would push him gently away, telling him in her own way 'no.' It was okay, but after all, he was an eighteen year old boy, no, man, and he was... interested in certain things. He wanted to know how desire would taste; he wanted to know what lust felt like. He could feel how heat started to spread through his body, making the world around him spin a little – but maybe it was just the effects of the alcohol, or the stuffy air.

He turned around to lean on the counter in front of him, staring at the empty glass in his hands. It didn't feel right to stand here, drinking alcohol and watching Dante getting it on with some random chick while something big was going to happen – sooner or later. Dante had told him that they would find them, anyway, but why weren't they getting their own hands dirty, and wasting time not looking for them? Yes, Dante was probably right, but didn't he want to know who was coming to look for them? Didn't he want to prepare himself? But maybe he didn't need preparation. Nero always had the feeling that Dante just did things, stumbling over his own damn luck by accident.

Just like now with the young girl, running into her by 'accident,' almost pouring his beer over her white tank-top, and of course he had to apologize to her in his own special way, like buying her and him another drink.

He turned around as the music changed, watching as another two dancers entered the stage. They both danced for themselves, the woman on the right, the man on the left side of the stage. He watched as the man moved his body, slowly unzipping his pants to the music, ripping the fabric off his body with one fluid motion. His eyes followed the line of his Adam's apple down to his collarbone, over his firm chest and abs, down to his waist and...

He brought his eyes to the woman in an instant as he caught himself admiring the male's body. But as he watched her breasts and the tips of her nipples, he just didn't find them as interesting as the man's strong arms. His eyes flickered back to watch him dancing. It wasn't like he was gay, but he had seen naked women before (of course not Kyrie, but women in magazines), and he had never watched a naked man...well, almost, or soon to be naked, this closely. The way the muscles moved underneath his skin, the way he moved his body to the music, how the sweat glistened on his chest... he had never seen that before. So he just had to watch to satisfy his own curiosity.

"Mmh, shouldn't you look the other way? The chick is to your right," he heard a voice near his ear as Dante stood next to him, leaning with his elbows on the bar as he watched the woman and the man dance on the stage.

Nero could feel how embarrassment took over his body and he quickly looked down on the sticky floor that was covered with sweat, beer and something he really didn't want to know. "It wasn't like that," he murmured, not looking at Dante as he did, but he could feel how the other male leaned closer.

"Did you see the girl I was talking to?" he asked the boy, quickly changing the topic and his lips were almost touching his ear as he spoke, his lips brushing ever so gently over his skin, like the touch of a feather.

Nero turned his head to look behind Dante to see the corridor where he had just stood seconds ago. The girl was gone. "Yes," he told him as he ordered a new beer and reached for it, trying to get some space between them.

"As much as I would have liked to fuck her -" Nero spit half of his beer out as he heard those words, but Dante continued as if nothing had happened - "tonight isn't the night. I just got some interesting information."

Nero used his hand to brush a few drops of beer off his chin. "That would be...?" The question hung between them, as Dante took Nero's arm, pulling him with him and leading him towards a backdoor.

"Not here," he smiled, rising an eyebrow at Nero, "besides, we don't wanna be late."

"Late for what?"

"The surprise party."


	5. The Day The Whole World Went Away

"'Surprise party?'"

"Follow me," Dante told him, and led him through the backdoor.

They entered a dark alley that smelled like garbage, vomit, and urine, and Nero could feel the nausea rising within him. He pinched his nose so he wouldn't smell anything. A place like this would never exist in Fortuna. The city was clean; almost no problems with drugs and alcohol, let alone strip clubs or pimping. Yes, Fortuna was like the perfect city to live in, but it was his personal hell. The way the people looked at him had burnt him deep inside. He would always feel their eyes staring at him, whispering and laughing. Most of the time, all of it appeared to him like a farce, like the people were acting to create a picture that didn't really exist; a city that was slowly rotting from the inside, and after the Savior incident, it seemed to him that the city had received its true face, after all...

But he knew that there was no ugly truth, not anymore. There weren't any big lies lying within the city – and that was what scared him the most. Fortuna had had a white vest before Dante and the citizens tried hard to get it clean again – and he, Nero, would be the only thing that would remain to remind the people of the city what had happened. He'd always be the stain that just wouldn't come out - could he endure this?

Dante walked a few feet ahead of him and at the end of the alley, Nero could see the girl, leaning against a wall, hands in her pockets. She smiled, but it didn't seem real.

"This is …  _Hazel_. And I think she should tell you the exact same thing she just told me." Dante grinned and crossed his arms in front of his chest. He looked satisfied, and Nero became suspicious.

"So... she wasn't just a flirt? I thought you just met her."

Dante rose an eyebrow. "Yeah? What gave you  _that_  impression?"

He stood right in front of Nero, the younger hunter trying to fix his eyes on a spot behind Dante on the other side of the street, as he found himself not able to look at him.

"I, uhm, well, you know... oh, what the fuck, Dante, does it really matter?" He turned around, angry. He suddenly felt very uncomfortable – where was his self-esteem? Ever since he arrived in the city, he felt small and exposed to the world, like he was out of his element. Since when was he that insecure? This wasn't how it was supposed to be. After all, he came to save Dante's fucking ass...

He looked at the girl, Hazel. "So..." he started. He found it difficult to find the right words. She stood there in front of him, wearing tight black shorts, high boots, and a white tank top that showed more than it covered. Even in the dark light of the alley he could see the tips of her breasts showing through the thin fabric. She was young, maybe only a few years older than him. She had full, red lips that she painted in a dark red, big brown eyes, and long hair that fell in waves around her body, dark as the night. She was beautiful.

As she arched her back, he had a hard time keeping his focus on her face as she looked at him. She smiled at him and he could see sharp fangs – so she wasn't human?

She smiled. "Yes, I am a demon," she said, almost giggling. She turned a little bit to her side to look at Dante. "Where did you find him? He's cute. Is he really a demon hunter? He looks nothing like it."

"Hey!"

"Trust me, he's  _good_. He could kick your ass," Dante told her, and Nero felt as if he had disappeared into thin air. He hated it when people talked about him like he wasn't there, but at the same time he couldn't believe those words. Did Dante actually think of him as a good hunter?

"I doubt that," she scoffed, as her focus found Nero again.

"Oh, really." It wasn't a question. He could feel how his nails dug into his skin as his hands turned into fists. "I'll show you, I'll..."

"Hey! Calm down, kid! I'm sure there's enough time for you to show her how big your... ego is,  _after_ we've talked." Dante put one hand on Nero's shoulder, the other one on the girl's.

"I hope his  _ego_ is as big as your..."

"Shut it, Hazel," the demon-hunter told her, winking at her.

Nero could feel how a headache started to built inside him. Time to change the subject.

"How do you know each other again?"

"I met Dante a few years ago when I tried to kill him." Nero stared at her, waiting for her to continue, but she didn't look like she wanted to tell him more.

She turned around. "Anyway, I heard something interesting. There's something going on. Demons are leaving the city to the countryside. It's like they're gathering for something, or so..." She was flapping her hand like it was not that big a deal. "Anyhow!" She continued as she used one finger to poke Nero in the chest, "There are rumors about a devil who came to town – keeps looking for something, they say. Not a big fish, they say, but dangerous, I think." Now she was fully smiling. "And it keeps getting better: He said whoever brings it to him gets a reward, a big one." She shoved Nero against a wall, licking her lips as she leaned closer to him. "Now guess who's getting lucky tonight?" She used a sing-song voice as one hand traveled down his chest, trying to get underneath his red hoodie.

But a hand caught hers. "Behave, Hazel," Dante growled at her, holding her hand up. She gave him a shy smile as her eyes flickered between Dante and him.

"What the fuck..." Nero breathed as he took one step back. "What the fuck?" he asked, even though it almost didn't sound like a question. Dante took a hold of her chin, turning her head and capturing her lips right in front of Neros eyes. Nero could see how the muscles of his jaw moved as he deepened the kiss, trying to dominate the girl as he used his right hand to cup her cheek as his other one found her waist.

As the kiss continued and seconds seemed to turn into minutes, and as Nero was almost sure they would get it on right here and now between all the filth and garbage, he cleared his throat. "Hey... Dante... Dante... Dante!"

He broke away from the demon, her lips slightly swollen from the deep kiss and her skin a little red where the stubble of his growing beard had touched her.

"Don't scare him, Hazel. I told you I pay you way better than that bastard would ever do. I always do, don't I?" He brushed his thumb over her cheek, drawing small circles on her heated skin. Nero doubted that it was true. Dante's office looked like he didn't have very much money. To be exact, it looked like a dump.

"I just wanted to tease him." She eyed Nero. "I heard some of them talking. They're meeting at the old mansion – you know where that is right, Dante? Yeah? Okay -. they said  _he_ will be there. So if you want to know who's interested in the kid..."

"I'm not a kid!"

"... then you should try your luck there," she finished.

She turned to Dante. "That's all I know, sugar."

"So, what you're saying is... that there's a head-money on  _me_?"

She nodded.

"Why?"

"I don't know and I don't care. It's not a big amount, though, so don't feel flattered. You should have known, since I didn't knock you out and take you with me. If it would have been a decent amount of money, then trust me, even Dante couldn't pay me more." She smiled as she said those words, but her voice was as cold as ice.

"You think it's the same guy who wants... you know?" He didn't know how much he could say about Yamato in front of Hazel.

"Nah, could just be a coincidence." Dante waved his hand.

Nero shook his head. "You don't really..." he began, but Dante cut him off.

"Aw, Nero, come on. Fuck. I think whoever he is, he's stupid enough to think we would run into the little trap."

"Trap?"

"This can't be a coincidence," Dante told him. "But you know, just for the fun of it, let's act like idiots and run into the trap. I bet Rebellion will be happy to cut some demon flesh again."

Nero nodded. "But whoever he is... how did he know I was here? I didn't tell anybody, not even Kyrie."

"So you just left? Without saying goodbye?"

He shook his head. A wave of sadness collapsed over him. "It doesn't matter anyhow," he said, without showing emotion.

"I think I'd rather go before it gets all touchy..." Hazel told them, making a face as she was disgusted. She took one step forwards so her hips would brush Nero's as she walked pass him. She gently laid one hand on Dante's shoulder before turning away. "Now, go hunt," she whispered, before turning around. She bent her knees to push her body from the ground and grabbed the edges of a gutter, before pulling herself up and escaping into the night via the rooftops.

**Chapter 4: The Day The Whole World Went Away**

As Nero couldn't see her anymore, he turned to Dante.

"What do you pay her so that she'd rather work with you than to hunt humans?" Nero asked him as his gaze caught a white tank top in the far distance that glowed in the night.

"Sex, protection, money... mostly protection."

"Wait, what, sex?"

"And protection, and money..."

"Sex? Seriously?"

"Oh, Nero." He shook the head like he would tutor a kid. "Did you think that only women could get information by using their body?"

To be honest, Nero couldn't think of  _anybody_ using their bodies to get some information. But Dante talked about it like it wasn't a big deal, and even though his voice sounded cheerful and somehow cocky, his face didn't show any emotion.

"I met her a few years ago, slaughtered almost all of her so called buddies. She was a member of a clan that wanted to kill me. To make things short, Nero: she was the bait and I was the fish, and I bit. After that, after she got useless, her buddies turned against her, so she helped me fight them off. She got almost killed during the battle and I saved her. Ever since then, I wouldn't say we're friends or allies, but we're not enemies. She's my connection to the demon world and in return, I offer her some protection."

"And sex," Nero added.

"And money!" Dante told him, grinning, and now it was really showing in his eyes, and even Nero had to smile at those words. Like Dante had money...

"Now..." They entered the  _Love Planet_ again and Dante headed to the bar, grabbing a half empty glass with a brown liquid in it, bringing the glass to his lips and drinking it.

"Oh good, that's better. There's nothing that whiskey can't resolve. And I thought I would never get rid of her taste."

"That sounds like you didn't have fun back there."

"She tastes like ashes, and not because she's smoking."

"But didn't you say you would have... fucked her tonight?"

"I would've, and still going to, but not tonight, and not because I can't find another lay, but to stick to my half of the contract."

"So, you're really paying her with your body." It wasn't a question.

"Sex is just sex, Nero. I don't really care who I fuck as long as I can do it. It doesn't matter as long as I find the person attractive. Hair color, age, gender... it all really doesn't matter."

_Gender... gender?_

"You... you  _whore_!"

He didn't really plan to call him that. He didn't even want to. But he couldn't help it; it just slipped out. There was a slow song playing now, and Nero felt how the sound of the guitar and piano found their way into his head as vague vocals hit his ear.

He couldn't believe that someone as proud and narcissistic as Dante would sink that low – it was the truth, wasn't it? This wasn't how it was supposed to be. He met Dante thirteen months ago in Fortuna, and he had thought he'd known the man, but now he wasn't so sure anymore. But how could he be so arrogant, to think he would know someone he'd met only a couple of hours before? He was angry about himself. He had known Dante for only a few hours, and after that he had longed to see him again. He'd felt somehow connected to him. The first time he saw him, it felt like coming home after too many years spent on the other side of the world. Dante was the lost piece of a puzzle where Nero didn't know how it was supposed to look like in the end once it was finished. He had hoped for answers where he didn't know the questions to. But all of that didn't really matter anymore now that he was here. He had formed a picture of Dante in his head all those past months ago. And now he had to realize that he had it all wrong. At first he had thought of Dante as a villain; a cold-blooded murderer that had killed the holy priest. After he'd learned that he was betrayed, he saw Dante as a knight, wearing a disguise so people wouldn't know the hero underneath the hard shell. But now he knew better. There was no other man underneath Dante's shell. No hero, no knight... just Dante, a hero in his very own way – but could Nero accept it?

He was angry, and he wasn't sorry for calling Dante a whore – he had had this picture of Dante, and now he just didn't fit it the way he was supposed to – but why did it feel as if Dante had betrayed him? Why did it hurt him so much?

He saw how Dante's body stiffened, his gaze became rigid, and the knuckles of his hand that was still holding the glass turned white under his firm grip. He pointed his finger at the boy in front of him.

"Don't."

That was all. Nothing more, nothing less. And with that Dante turned around, smashed the glass on the ground and got up, heading for the front door.

"Let's go. If Hazel's right, they'll still be there."

Nero was still standing at the bar, stumbled at what had just happened. He'd expected him to yell or even punch at him, but there was nothing. He didn't even sound angry.

He heard the words of the singer running through his head.

_Nothing is the same after tonight._

He stared at Dante's back as he stood in the door-frame, waiting for the younger man to follow him.

He slowly walked up to Dante. He only stopped one foot behind him, and he was sure he could feel the other man's body heat as Dante was burning from the inside.

Dante's chest rose slowly from his shallow breaths. Dante didn't turn or look at him. His hand hung lightly above the doorknob, almost as if he were afraid to touch it.

"Hey, kid," he heard Dante's soft voice. "Don't say that again." His words were almost a whisper. "It sounds weird coming from you, after all!" Dante turned, a full grin on his face. "I bet you're still a virgin, so you shouldn't say something like that." He punched him slightly on the shoulder before going outside.

Nero just stood there. He didn't understand any of it. But maybe it was just Dante's way of being serious.

But apparently Dante had shook off his hurt feelings just like that, but that would mean he actually had been hurt, and Nero wasn't so sure about it. He thought he would just do the same. He straightened his back as he fell into Dante's steps.

  
  


  
  


  
  


_XXX_

  
  


  
  


  
  


A muffled voice made its way to his ear as he looked through the dirty broken window of an old warehouse. A deep moan broke through the silence and cut right into his soul.

"Please..." He heard a voice that was thick with desire and lust, and he could hear something metallic hit the ground followed by a sound of ripping fabric.

"Shut up."

He'd heard enough. He ignored the sharp shards that were still sticking out of the old frame and brought his hand around the metal. Broken glass cut into his hands as he pulled his body up to land on the other side. As his feet hit the ground, he hoped the two men didn't hear him. His view was blocked from old storage boxes that had a thick layer of dust on them, so he slowly peeked around them. A couple of dozen feet away, he saw them.

A young man, no, a boy, was shoved against a wall as an older man covered him with his body, one of his arms supporting him by holding on to the wall, the other hand hidden down between their bodies. The blonde hair stuck out of the dark, making Dante feel like his chest burst.

He was fifteen now and had been living on the streets for two years. A year ago his brother had killed a man. He'd never told him, though, but he just knew. The way he was covered in blood and the way his empty eyes looked at him; there was no mistake. The man he had killed was the man he'd left with, leaving Dante behind. Now today was the second time Vergil left with another man, not telling Dante what he would do. But now he saw it and it knocked his breath out of his lungs.

The older man moved a little and he could see Vergil's hands, tied together in front of his body by his belt. His eyes were half closed, his mouth slightly open as he panted heavily. The hand of the man was in his pants, moving lazily up and down.

"I didn't allow you to speak now did I?" the man asked. He jerked his hand away, grabbing hold of his hair with his fist, pulling Vergil's body down so he would kneel on the ground.

"Now, open," he ordered, but nothing happened. Vergil was kneeling, and just stared up at him. The backside of a hand hit his cheek and his head was thrown to the side. Dante hissed. The hard blow had cost Vergil his balance, and with his hands tied he couldn't stop the fall. His face hit the ground.

"You know, I'm starting to think that you like pain." He lifted his foot, kicking Vergil in the side so he would roll over on his back. He lifted his foot again and put it right down on his crotch. Vergil moaned. "You're hard." He put a little pressure into his foot and the boy gasped as he did little circle motions. He knelt down, one hand getting a hold of his wrists, shoving them up above his head as he sat down on his hips.

"You're acting like you don't want it. I know what you're thinking. That you're doing this just because of the money. That this is nothing more than surviving. Believe me, I  _was_ there. I was like you. Proud, strong and arrogant. I'd never would have thought to step so low to fuck with other men just to get me through the winter. I bet you thought the same with your first, because obviously I'm not." His other hand traveled between their bodies, taking his cock, slowly stroking it while he shifted his body to find a more comfortable sitting position.

Dante couldn't see Vergil's face anymore.

"You slut, biting down on your own lips to muffle your moaning. Why won't you admit that this isn't just business? The sooner you do, the more fun it'll be."

"Fuck you." His brother's voice was low and cold, full with hate and desire. The man only answered with a low chuckle as his hand quickened its speed. Dante could hear his hand working and soon he could hear his brother's soft moans that escaped his throat. He witnessed how his body began to tremble as he couldn't control it anymore. He saw how Vergil squirmed underneath the man's body, his moans getting louder. Suddenly, the movement of the hand stopped and a frustrated yelp echoed through the empty hall.

He chuckled again. "You were begging before. Do it again."

He slid a little bit to the side and Dante saw his brother's face again. He just stared at the man above him, his chest moving up and down as he took deep breaths.

"You've lost your voice? You speak when you're not supposed to, and you keep silent when I wanna hear your sweat little pleas. You like to play against the rules. You think you're different right? That you're better? You're nothing. You're just a horny boy who's desperate to get fucked but won't admit it, so you're selling your body so you can lie to yourself, telling yourself that you have no other choice. But now that you went this far, you won't admit it. You like it."

His hand started to move again and Vergil's head sunk back to the ground, fighting against the hold of his wrists, and Dante knew if his brother wanted to be free, he would have broken the chains moments ago. His brother was far more stronger than the man above him, he could even kill him... so was he right?

"I know what you are. You could have escaped if you really wanted to. Your hands could be free; you could hit me in the face, take my wallet and run. But you don't."

He let go of Vergil's wrist and brought his hand to his throat. He strangled him as his other hand took up a new level of speed. His brother kept his tied hands above his head as he tried to throw his head back, arching his back, moaning loudly as he was near climax.

The other man knew what he was doing and stopped again. "Beg for it," he hissed into his brother's ear as his hand put a little bit more pressure to his throat. He was trying to pump air into his lungs, but couldn't. The man loosened his grip just long enough to allow Vergil to speak. He could hear only panting, but then it broke through the silence.

"Please..."

And his hand moved again and moments later was covered by a white, sticky liquid. His brother's body grew limp as his orgasm took over him.

The man leaned close to his ear.

"Whore..." he whispered before he got up, grabbing a hold of Vergil's chained hands, taking him up with him. He found the zipper of his pants and got a hold of his own erect member. "On your knees." Vergil was still shaking, his body wanting nothing more than to relax. For a long time, nothing happened. Vergil was standing there and panting, staring at the other man. But then he did what he was told to do. He knelt down and brought both his hands up. He wrapped his fingers around his length, slowly stroking him with both of his hands before he took him into his mouth, the whole time starring at him with hateful eyes. He gagged and tried to pull away as the man brought his hips forward, but he quickly used one hand to hold Vergil's head in place. His eyes filled with tears as he choked on the man's dick, still fighting against the need to vomit. He forced himself to relax, twirling his tongue around his shaft, and a deep moan came from the man's throat. After a while he got used to it, and as the man realized that he was no longer fighting, he let go of his head. Vergil's hands found his sac, his fingertips brushing against the thin skin. The man grunted and Dante knew that he was near his climax. He suddenly pulled away as he came on his brother's face. Disgust was written all over Vergil's face as drops of the man's semen found their way down his chin. He stared at the man in shock. Even while he came he could humiliate Vergil. What a bastard.

He looked down at the boy. "It suits you." He grinned as Vergil used the sleeve of his hoodie to clean himself.

He closed his pants and took something out of his pocket and threw it on his brother. "There are your twenty bucks," he scoffed. "Twenty bucks. Aren't you ashamed of yourself?" He walked away, laughing.

Dante kept silent, watching his brother. As he couldn't hear the footsteps of the other man anymore, his brother got slowly into a sitting position. Within half a second he broke free of the belt that held his hands tied together. He adjusted his clothes, before he got up, taking a hold of the wall behind him as his legs threatened to give away underneath him.

Now was the time to leave if he didn't want Vergil to know that he had been here, so he had to be back before him. He turned around and accidentally hit an old bucket with one of his feet. The metallic rattle rung loud through the warehouse. Vergil's head shot up and before Dante knew it, he was standing right in front of him. His brother had always been inhumanly fast. A hand took his throat and shoved his body against old boxes. His brother's eyes were glowing in a light red. As he finally realized that it was Dante, the glowing went away. Shock was showing on his face. His grip loosened a bit.

"Dante..." He breathed. "You... saw it." It wasn't a question.

Dante swallowed hard. "Yes..." But his voice was only a whisper as Vergil still held his hand around his neck. He let go and took a step backwards.

"This is what you were doing back that night, right?" Dante asked, but his brother didn't answer. "But you couldn't do it. You killed him. Was he right?" Anger was showing in Dante's voice. He pushed his brother backwards. "You liked it didn't you?" He could still hear his brother moan's echoing through his memory.

Vergil's hand hit him unprepared. His lip broke and started to bleed as he stumbled backwards. Vergil threw himself against his brother, bringing him down. He was sitting on his chest as his fists found Dante's face over and over again.

Dante didn't fight back. He wasn't angry, not anymore. He was just... disappointed. This wasn't Vergil. This wasn't him. He would never be that submissive. He was always so full of pride – where was it now?

He didn't fight back because he knew that Vergil needed this more than him.

Vergil's anger died and he looked at the bloody face. Dante's nose was broken and his teeth were red from the blood in his mouth, one of his eyes already started to swell.

"I didn't..." He lifted his fist again, before letting it rush down, but it didn't hit Dante's face but the ground next to his head. He could hear how the bones broke in Vergil's hand, but his brother didn't show any of the pain.

He looked to the side, staring off into space. "I did this for you," he whispered. His eyes found Dante's, and this time he held his glare until Dante almost couldn't stand it anymore. "Remember that. I did this for you."

  
  


  
  


  
  


_XXX_

  
  


  
  


  
  


_Whore..._

It was just a word, but the way the man said it... He could still remember all those words he'd spoken to his brother. It should have angered him that someone would dare to humiliate his brother in such a way. But at the same time, he felt disgusted, angry, disappointed, and … left alone. Vergil had had a burden he didn't want to share with him, and that hurt the most.

Only a few weeks later, their paths had separated. His brother went away, and he was left alone. There were times where he had thought about selling his body as Vergil had, just to get some money. Back then, he had the dream of saving enough money to rent a small apartment, finding a job and escaping from the street. He did it, though the memories of those times never left him.

It took him two years to save enough money, and he never sold his body; he'd never stepped that low. His first job was at a pizza place where he worked as a delivery boy. The payment was terrible, but it wasmoney, and that's all that he needed. A year later when he'd turned eighteen, he got his own place. It took him three more years to save enough money to rent his office, and he quit his job at the pizza place. Shortly after that he met Vergil … and killed him.

"What do you think will be there?" Nero's words cut through his memories, slicing them apart until they fell out of his mind.

"I don't know," he told the boy as his hands took a firmer grip on the steering wheel of his car. In the distance he could see an old Victorian house. It was just outside of the city with a big yard and old trees surrounding it. When he and Vergil were kids, they would ride all the way from their family home with their bikes to play inside the old mansion. Most kids were scared of the old house, with its broken windows and the old furniture that had thick layers of dust on them, and the old smell. But not him and Vergil. After their mother had died, and after a few days they had spent next to her corpse, they had taken their only legacies they owned, the swords Rebellion and Yamato, and brought them to the Victorian house, where they hid the weapons. They had lived there for a couple of days before it started snowing, and it took the police three more days to find them there. They had lived in the orphanage for four years, and it was good. At least he liked it there, but it never felt like home. It felt like they were at a holiday camp, waiting for it to end and to go home, but it never ended and their home didn't exist anymore.

When they grew older, only a few weeks after their twelfth birthday, Vergil had woken him up one night and told him that he was leaving. Of course, he went with him. Vergil never really hated the orphanage, but he knew that they didn't belong there; that they were different, and that no one would come to pick them up and bring them into another family, like it happened to other kids. Vergil knew they were alone, and would always be. It wasn't like they could live there forever. It was only a matter of time before they had to leave. So Vergil decided to cut it short and just left. His plan was to live at the old mansion, but over the years the place had changed. The city became rotten and the house was overfilled with junkies and homeless people, maybe some prostitutes. They couldn't live there, so they just made sure that their weapons were still at their place and fled to the city. But they would still visit the old mansion, dig out the swords and practice in the old backyard underneath large oak trees.

But all of this was a long time ago.

He stopped a couple of feet away from the house. There were no lights, of course, since the old mansion didn't even have electricity back then when he and Vergil were children. It was completely dark, as if nothing was going on, but he knew better; Hazel wouldn't lie.

"If it's a trap, then why are we going there?" Nero asked him as he closed the door quietly to the car and went around the hood.

Dante swung Rebellion over his shoulder. "Aren't you curious as to who's so desperately in love with you that he even put a bounty on you to get you?"

He could see through the dark how Nero's Adam's apple moved as he swallowed hard. "I don't think it'll be that simple, Dante."

"You're just scared that I'll slaughter more demons than you, and we both now I  _am_  gonna slaughter more of those bastards than you ever will." He grinned while Nero ripped the bandages off his demonic arm, who hid it from curious eyes. The flesh was glowing in a soft blue.

"Yep, definitely some demons around here," he told Dante and drew Red Queen before he scratched his nose.

They stopped at the garden gate that once must have been white. Dante didn't bother to open it and swung his legs over the small fence.

"I can't hear anything," Nero whispered as Dante drew Rebellion, sneaking slowly to the entrance door.

"I can't smell them neither. Usually they reek of foul eggs and death," Dante added before he laid his hand on top of the doorknob. He looked over his shoulder to eye Nero.

"You ready to party, kid?"

Dante opened the door, and nothing happened. No trap, no demons, nothing. He slowly entered the dark room.

"I knew you would come."

The man was sitting in the middle of the room with the unlit fireplace at his back. Years ago it must have been a beautiful living room, filled with life, laughter and many memories of those families who had lived there, but not anymore. Dante's gaze immediately found a dark spot on one of the walls... More than twenty years ago he had hit his head there while he and his brother had trained with their swords against their mother's will, and blood had splattered against the wall. Now it was only a dark brown stain.

His eyes turned back to the man. He had long white hair that fell in waves around his body. He wore old Japanese clothes that reminded him of those samurai movies he liked to watch when he was a kid. The fabric was a dark blue, and at his feet he wore thin black shoes that looked like they were made out of linen.

In his right hand he held a cane, the hand-piece looking like a hissing snake made out of gold.

There were no other demons visible, but Dante knew they were here. Something wasn't right. He dropped his sword so the tip of the blade would point at the floor. He could see that Nero did it as well as he stopped behind him.

"How could I say no?" Dante asked him with a bright grin as he took one step forward before he was near enough to raise his sword again. If the man would try to get up, his blade would cut right through his throat.

"Why so shy? Come here," the man said, ignoring Dante's words as he looked at Nero. He lifted one hand and used one of his fingers to shove Dante's sword away. "This is not necessaryy my friend." But Nero didn't buy it.

"What do you want from me?" he demanded to know, as the knuckles of his hand that was holding the sword turned white. A thin layer of sweat was showing on his forehead.

"I only want Yamato."

"Why?"

"I'm here to help you. I mean no harm. I'm trying to prevent great evil that is about to happen." His voice and words were smooth, like he was a grandfather talking to his grandsons as if he wanted to know what they wished for Christmas.

"Did you send that demon after me, back in Fortuna? Are you the master it spoke of?" Nero took another step forward, anger showing in his voice.

He frowned. "I did not."

"Bullshit!" Nero barked.

"But I'm afraid of who sent this demon," he continued, ignoring Nero's swearing.

"What's this all about?" Now it was Dante who was speaking. After all, Yamato was his brother's sword, so he had a right to know, too.

"Nero, I'm afraid I'm not the only one after you and the son of Sparda. It is true, I  _want_ Yamato."

"What for? To open the Gate to Hell again?" Dante's voice was sharp as a blade, all the hurt swung within it as he was reminded of the night he had killed his brother.

"I know that you restored the sword, boy. I know that it is within your demonic arm. But you shouldn't have done that. You shouldn't have restored the sword."

He drew a deep sigh and rose slowly from his chair. He moved like an old man but Dante was sure that he wasn't what he acted like. This man was dangerous.

"No, I don't want to open the Hellgate. No. I would never do such evil. But there are those who want it. Who want to gain more power. "

He paused and stepped in front of the boy. "Tell me, do you still hear his voice?"

Dante could see how Nero's expression turned into shock. "How do you know about that?"

"He's still talking to you, isn't he. He's getting stronger. Did the dreams start yet?"

Nero's face went gray. "Yes..." he whispered, and a loud clatter was heard as he wasn't strong enough anymore to hold Red Queen.

"He's restoring his old self. Those dreams you have, they're..."

"Memories," Nero breathed.

The man smiled a toothless smile. "Yes. Yes they are. It's only a matter of time when he begins to take over you, and tries to leave your body."

Nero's face lightened a little bit before it went dark again. "What you're saying, that this voice... that there's someone... you mean  _inside_  me?"

"Wait a minute, time out guys!" Dante stepped between the two men, looking at them. "What the hell's going on here?"

"Dante..." The old man looked him straight in the eyes. "Why did you gave Nero the Yamato?"

The question hit him more than any demonic blow could ever do. Before he could open his mouth to answer, the man continued:

"I tell you why, because every time you look at the boy you see someone else. Isn't that right?"

He knew he was right; there was no way to deny it. And then it hit him with full force. The old mansion. It was his and Vergil's place. No one knew about its meaning besides him, but maybe he was wrong. Like as he said to Nero, this wasn't a coincidence. No, it wasn't.

"Vergil..." he whispered, and the man nodded.

"Yes. It's Vergil's soul that rests within the boy."

_So he's still alive?_

"Who's Vergil?" Nero asked, dumbfounded.

"Dante's brother," the man answered before he could.

"I have the soul of his brother in me?"

"Yes."

"But you said he's getting stronger, that he'll be strong enough to leave my body soon. So that's good, right?"

Dante scoffed. "You wanna know something, kid? I killed my brother. Not only my brother, but my twin. My own flesh and blood. It was the only way to stop him, and now I'm learning that parts of him are still alive and soon to be free? No, that's not a good sign. With Vergil involved, it never is."

"Oh..."

_Yeah... oh._

"Correct," the man said. "But, Nero, you have to understand something. If Vergil leaves your body, your own soul is going to break. You and him are connected; your souls share the same host. You can't just separate them. It's not that simple."

"You mean..."

"Vergil is a part of you, just as you are a part of him. But Vergil is strong. He would survive, but you..." He didn't finish; he knew Nero could paint the picture without his words.

But Dante needed to hear the truth. He turned to look at Nero.

"If Vergil's strong enough to leave your body, you'll die."


	6. 21 Gram

"Die?" Nero repeated the word, not believing how the last events had turned out.

It was such a small word, only three letters, but its weight laid heavy on his shoulders now. This was all too confusing. In what mess had he stumbled upon now?

"But how can I die? I mean, a soul is a soul... it's not... physical, you know? I mean..." Nero grimaced. Did Dante really believe in something like that? A human being didn't need a soul to live, right? After all, scientists couldn't even prove that there was something like a soul. There was much more that was needed for humans to live – a soul couldn't be his destiny!

"How ignorant of you," the old man chuckled. "You think it only needs a brain and a heart, some blood and flesh for a human being to live? If Vergil escapes your body, the only thing that's going to be left will be a shell of your former self. A piece of flesh and bones; a sarcophagus. It'll breathe, but that's it. Your soul will die, Nero. Your spirit, if the term suits you better, will not survive."

"But how can that be?" Nero turned around to Dante. "I'm me! I'm not your brother. I have my own memories, my own life. I'm not him." He put his palm on his chest, feeling his own heart racing. He tried to look into Dante's eyes, wanted to see those blue orbs, but the devil-hunter let his head hang, staring at the floor in front of him. Then his gaze lifted. His eyes looked darker to Nero and he swallowed hard as he saw the look in them.

**Chapter 5: 21 Gram**

Before the older hunter could answer, something broke through the ceiling above them. Dust and splinters found their way into Nero's lungs as he jumped a couple of feet away, trying to avoid whatever it was that broke through the ceiling. A load roar broke through the following silence. Something dark and big fell down on the floor right between Dante, Nero, and the old man; its skin was black, and yellow eyes were staring at the slayers. Its teeth flared in a bright white, its tongue sticking out pink. On all fours it rushed over to Dante, opening its giant mouth, freeing a loud roar. It was a huge black mess, an ugly demon with skin that had pockmarks everywhere. It was almost nine feet high and six feet wide. It legs were rather short, but it moved fast.

As Dante pulled Rebellion out and placed it in front of him, the demon got up on its rear legs, breaking the ceiling again while doing so – it was simply too big for the old mansion.

He saw Dante rushing froward, grabbing a hold of Red Queen as well, but as Nero wanted to jump on the demon's back, something hit him on his right side. It felt like a dull blow to his sides, and he stumbled forward as he felt a stitch coming on. But then another blow hit him in the back, throwing him to the side on the ground. A hot pain spread over his spine, through his body, and right into his heart, taking all of his breath. He could taste blood in his mouth as he laid on the ground, trying to get on his feet again.

"Nero!" He heard Dante's voice ringing in his ears as he lifted his head to watch the demon slayer using his right leg to jump at the wall, pushing his body higher in the air as Rebellion cut down on the demon's head, but it was too fast and his blade only found air. He saw Dante looking over his shoulder as he fell down on his knees to slip underneath the demon's forelegs, holding Rebellion up to cut through one of its legs.

"Come on, kid, don't sleep now. Get up!" Dante encouraged the young devil hunter in his own way, trying not to show the worry in his voice, but it was written all over his face.

Nero pushed himself up with his arms, his upper body only supported by his elbows, as he turned his head around. His eyes widened at what he saw.

The old man was still sitting in his chair, not really caring about what was going on in the big living room. But there was something sticking out of his back. It looked like a long, strong leg or something similar, and Nero was sure that this was the source of what hit him in the first place. But now he could see how the skin of the man slowly broke away. His face was ripped into pieces as a dark green mass of flesh and muscles crawled out of his body. It got bigger and bigger now, the chair underneath the man shattering into pieces as a giant praying mantis found its way out of his body. One of its long legs whacked after Nero, but he found the strength to quickly roll away. He was laying on his back and he could feel a sticky liquid spreading beneath his clothes. The mantis must had hurt him well enough for him to bleed. As the adrenaline rushed through his body, he used all his strength to get himself up. From his lying position he jumped on his feet, grabbing Red Queen, ready to fight the cocksucker in front of him. The mantis was showing him its teeth, a smile creeping over its demonic face.

"Give me Yamato," a dark voice rumbled from its chest, booming in his ears.

The mantis took one step forward, its body almost too big to staod upright in the living room. Nero clenched his teeth. "Only over my dead body."

The demon chuckled in front of him. "Very poor choice of words."

Dante was turning in mid-air as he watched Nero holding Red Queen in his hand. The old man was gone, the mantis standing instead in his former place. He tore Rebellion upwards to block a blow from one of the demons' claws as his legs found its head, pushing himself upwards. His body rotated in mid-air as he rammed his sword in one of its shoulders, cutting right through the joint. A painful scream rewarded him as he landed on one knee on the ground, dark blood dripping from his sword's blade. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Nero running and jumping high in the air to avoid being swept off his feet by one of the mantis' claws. The kid held his sword above his head, as he wanted to cut through one of the four legs.

Dante's eyes widened. "Watch out!" he tried to warn him as another claw tried to reach the kid. He saw how Nero turned in mid-air, trying to block the blow, but it was too late.

One of the claws pierced right through one of his shoulders, the impact so strong it pushed him against a wall. Before he could free himself, another claw pierced through his other shoulder, Red Queen gliding out of his hand and falling down to the ground.

"Nero!"

Dante wanted to rush forwards, wanted to cut the demonic insect into little pieces, but the giant paw of the demon behind him met his back, claws digging deep cuts into him. He growled in pain as he turned around, ready to cut its head off. He could see how the wounds he had inflicted on the demon were already healing. "Motherfucker..." he cursed under his breath as he attacked the demon once again.

Nero felt the beast's claws sticking in his shoulders, holding him tight against the wall a couple of feet above the ground. He wasn't able to move his arms at this state, and he glared at the mantis in front of him.

"You're thinking of your Devil Bringer," the voice purred as it held Nero in his place, adding a little bit more force into his claws, cutting deeper into Nero's flesh. He could hear muscles ripping, bones shattering. A husky scream escaped his throat.

A blue glow started to cover his body, as his Devil Bringer started to work on its own. He could feel the power rising within him, a warm tingling covering his whole body. He felt how the arm and hand of his Devil Bringer was formed, ready to strike at the mantis.

Before the Devil Bringer could move, he felt the sudden urge to cough. He blinked in disbelief as he spit out a large amount of blood. Not knowing what had happened, he looked at the grinning mantis and back at his body. The hilt of Red Queen was sticking out of the middle of his chest. An ugly picture of a deja-vu formed in his head. Hadn't he been here before? Pinned to a wall with a sword cutting through his guts? But the pain was the same; it threatened to take over all of his senses as it collapsed over him. He blinked a few times as his vision begun to blur.

"No you won't," he heard the mantis' voice cutting through the fog of pain in his brain.

"Nero!" He could hear Dante scream, and he turned his head to where the voice had come from. He looked into Dante's with horror-filled eyes as the sword was pushed deeper into his body. A new stream of blood found its way through his throat, dripping from his chin down on the floor beneath him, joining the already existing puddle of blood. He felt his body go limp as his vision was fading, darkness overtaking him. He felt his body grow heavy, the pain in his shoulders almost too much to bare. He wished for the pain to end, as the sword was pushed once again deeper into his body. He didn't have the strength to scream anymore, nor was he able to lift his head as he sank deeper. Everything became dark; his eyelids grew heavier, and sleep became a wonderful idea. He drifted slowly out of consciousness, not remembering anymore why it was so important for him to stay awake.

  
  


  
  


XXX

  
  


  
  


A hot white light crept over his body like the small waves of water in a warm tub. It felt like peace, as his body didn't seem to have any more weight; there was no pain, no worry, no fight. Silence swallowed every noise as his body floated through empty white space. He felt tired, incredibly tired, and he wanted nothing more than to sleep. The idea to sleep forever sounded wonderful in his head, but his feet met cold, wet ground as his journey stopped in front of a dark wall with a closed door right in front of him.

It opened by itself as he walked through the door, entering black nothingness. He didn't want to leave the warm and peaceful light, but his feet moved on their own. The white, bright light continued to shine behind him as he walked into darkness. Dripping water was echoing somewhere as the door behind him closed by itself, leaving him alone in the Nothingness. It felt as if he had had a wonderful dream, and now that he had woken up, the cruelty of reality hit him with full force. He wanted nothing more than to go back into the light.

"Hello?" he asked, almost whispering. "What's going on here?" he murmured. He heard the rattle of a chain somewhere near him, and he almost jumped at the sound.

"Who's there?" He stretched out his arm, trying to find a wall that could help him walk through the black mess. He took small steps forward, as he didn't know where he was going. Another rattle echoed through the room, and he could see how a small light formed right in front of him. He took bigger steps as he walked forward to the light and as he was near enough, he could see that it was the flame of a candle. The flickering light showed a room with naked stone walls and a cold, wet floor. Another rattle caught his attention and he turned his head to the right.

Nero gasped at the sight, taking one step back.

"Are you here to kill me now?" A small boy was sitting on the floor, his knees pressed to his chest as his arms tugged around his legs. He wore an old pair of pyjama bottoms that were dirty and torn at most places, his upper body naked as well as his feet. He looked dirty and worn out. His hair must have been at some point a bright blonde, but now it was covered with dirt. His cheeks were shrunken, his lips cracked. Blue eyes were staring at him as the boy slowly rose to his feet, a chain around one of his ankles. He was so thin that Nero could see his ribs. The boy couldn't be older than eight.

"To kill you? Why would I do that?" He took another step back, not knowing what was going on, so he'd rather bring some space between him and the boy, even though the child didn't look like he would have enough strength to harm him.

"Because he told me the next time he would come, he would kill me... but you're not him, are you?" the boy asked, his voice filled with bitterness. For a child that knew he would be killed, he sounded incredibly calm.

Nero swallowed. "Whoever he is... I'm not him. I'm not here to harm you."

The shoulders of the boy dropped and he folded his legs beneath him as he sat down again. He drew small invisible circles with one of his fingers on the floor. "Oh..." He sounded disappointed.

"Is this... a prison?" Nero asked, looking at the high walls surrounding them.

"No," he answered him, not really caring, as his gaze stared off into empty space. Then the boy looked up at him as if he just got an idea. "Why are you here?"

Nero looked down at his hands, trying to find an answer. It was a good question, though. Why was he here and more importantly: what got him here? The last thing he could remember was standing in the middle of a battlefield surrounded by ruins, a girl standing in the background as he was talking to a man. He couldn't remember the words, but he remembered the feelings he had.

"I... I don't know," he told the boy, joining the kid by sitting on the ground. "Who brought you here?" he asked the boy – maybe the child could help him to sort things out.

"No one. I'm hiding."

"Hiding?"

The boy looked up at him, blue eyes meeting blue eyes. But he didn't answer and brought his focus back to the ground where his fingers were still drawing. "I've been here for a long time," the boy suddenly spoke softly, after Nero thought he wouldn't start again. His voice was low and didn't sound at all like the voice of a child. "But I never had a visitor."

Nero leaned his back against a nearby wall. "How long have you been here?"

The boy sighed. "Years, I guess. Decades. I don't know."

"Decades?" Nero asked, surprised. If this was the truth, the boy would be clearly older than he looked. But as hard as he tried to look across the layers of dirt, it was just a child he saw.

"What's the last thing you remember?" the boy asked him, his voice nothing but a low whisper.

"Talking to someone..."

"A friend, huh?" The boy looked at him before his gaze stared off again. "The last thing I remember is my mom." His voice was covered with a thick layer of sadness as he lifted his head again to stare Nero directly in his eyes. "I saw her dying." He almost spit the words.

Nero didn't know what to say. He was never good with kids; he always felt uncomfortable around them. He didn't know how to answer, so the only thing that left his mouth was a stupid, "Oh...".

"I still remember every line of her face. The way she looked when she smiled and the way she looked as she died. Do you remember your mother?"

"I... uhm, I..." Nero tried to answer, but all of this was so unreal that he had a hard time keeping his focus on the conversation he was having with the boy. He knew that he needed to figure a way out to escape this place, but at the same time he just wanted to sit down for a little while to regain strength. He still felt so tired, and this place seemed to suck the life out of his body.

"No. I don't remember her. I don't have a mother," he told him. The boy looked surprised and his face turned into a grimace.

"That's not true. Everybody has a mother."

"Well, I don't," he answered, and the boy shut up. Nero sounded more angry than he wanted to be – he felt almost sorry for barking at the kid like that.

"You miss your mum?" Nero tried after a while again, but he had to use all of his strength to form and speak the words. He felt as if he had run a marathon. The boy nodded. Nero swallowed hard. "You... you say the last thing you remember is... is her dying..." He stopped, not knowing if he should continue, too afraid of the answer. "Are you – are you dead, too?"

Maybe he was in hell. Maybe he was dead. Maybe all of this was just a dream – but first he needed to sort things out. Get rid of the 'I'm-in-hell'-theory. At least he hoped so. Then maybe it would be a dream, and that was something he could control.

"You could put it that way. I think I am."

Nero felt how his face turned grey as all the air was knocked out of his lungs. So this was... hell? Clearly not heaven.

"You think, or you know?" he tried again.

"I think," the boy answered. "I'm not sure." Hope was flickering inside him like the candle in front of him.

"How did you get here?" Maybe the kid knew who brought him here too. But the boy shook his head.

"I came here by my own free will. I think it was right after my mum's death..."

"Why?"

The boy sighed. "To be saved."

This couldn't be real now could it? A picture of a man popped into his head and in the distance he could hear a voice scream his name – he had the feeling as if he was missing something, but he couldn't remember what. He remembered talking to this man, but as he tried to find something in his memory that he could use, he felt how the pictures of past moments slipped through his fingers like sand.

"Do you remember something else? I mean, besides your mother's death..."

The boy looked away, blonde hair covering his eyes. "I remember my old room... and how the kitchen smelt when my mom cooked. I remember," he looked up at Nero, "being happy." Pain was written all over his face. "At first those where the only memories I had and..." But he stopped, not able to speak further.

Nero pinched the bridge between his nose and forehead as he felt a headache rising. He needed to talk to someone, he needed to... His thoughts were foggy. "I..." He swallowed hard, moving his body next to the boy. "I have the feeling as if I'm losing myself." He massaged his temples with his fingers. "I can't remember..." A sharp pain ripped through his head as if his skull was cracked open.

Nero tried once more, hoping to clear his head with the task of forming words. "What's your name, boy?"

Blue orbs stared into his as he blew a strand of hair out of his face.

"Vergil. My name's Vergil."

White stars exploded behind his eyes as pain rushed through his body, eating him like a black shadow, swallowing him alive. He fell forward, using his hands to balance himself, as he could already taste the vomit. He swallowed again, coughing. He knew that he heard this name before, but when and where? He had the feeling that this information must be important to him, but he didn't know why.

He was breathing hard.

How long had he been here?

"You're weird," the boy told him, looking at him with dull eyes. "You're not supposed to be here, are you?" He wanted to know.

"I... I don't know." Nero brought his hand to his chest. He had the feeling as if his heart would break out of his chest any moment. "Tell me."

"About what?" the boy asked him.

"You. Tell me about you." He had a hard time breathing, but Nero thought that if the boy would keep talking about his past, he would find out more about his own. His gaze found his fingers and he saw how the wet stone of the floor was showing through them. He lifted his hand, looking at it; it was partly invisible. He could see the wall behind his hand and this was not good. Not good at all. What the hell was happening here?

"I... me? I recall only a few things back. Like how my room looked. With a bed underneath the window. I can't remember the titles of the books on the shelf, though. But I remember my brother. I think he was kinda getting on my nerves... but now I miss him, too."

"Your... brother?" Nero breathed, falling down on the ground, no longer able to support his weight with his arms. The floor pressed cool against his cheek.

"Yes. I don't know." He shook his head. "Why do you want to know?" he asked him in a casual matter.

And then, as he was laying on the cold floor, his cheek pressed against the stone, his body incredibly heavy, as breathing became a burden and his heart raced in his chest, he knew what was happening.

"I'm  _dying_!" Nero shouted desperately as reality hit him, trying to look at the boy but he was too weak now to lift his head. "I don't know what's happening here. Don't you care at all?"

"Why should I care? I'm trapped here. You can't save me. I was lost a long time ago."

"Your brother's name..." But he couldn't talk further.

"Dante."

_Nero!_

He could hear someone scream, his eyes growing heavy. Sleep. He wanted to sleep. He closed his eyes but he could still see the flicker of the candle, the blurry contours of the stone wall in front of him. His body started to faint, but he was still able to think.

"If this isn't a prison, then what is it?"

"The Irony of Fate? Let me ask you something."

Nero listened. Did the boy sound angry?

"Have you ever tried to stop to think?"

It took him a lot to let the questions sink into his brain, to crack the code of the words, to understand the meaning of them before he could answer.

"When I was a child, maybe."

"Did it work?"

Thinking was very difficult now.

"No." He pressed the word out.

"So how could you break out of your own mind?"

"My... mind?" Breathing became difficult now.

He could hear the rustle of fabric and soon saw two pair of dirty feet in front of him.

"You know why I'm here? Because life was too cruel. I tried to hide here, tried to forget everything bad that had ever happened to me. But it didn't work. You can't hide from your memories, just as you can't stop thinking."

The voice of the boy sounded so far away.

"After my mom died I had only one choice."

_What choice?_ He wanted to ask, but he couldn't find a way to move his mouth anymore. But the boy didn't need to hear his voice to continue.

"I couldn't endure that much pain. To keep that last piece of innocence, I came here. I spent so many years in here but I never forgot. I remember parts of my past and it hurts. I endure the pain, while it seems that you try to run away from it; you  _want_ to forget."

_No... no that's not true. I_ need  _to remember..._

"From what do you need to hide?" The boy crouched near him, looking at him with great curiosity as he asked his question.

" _Alea iacta est ..."*_ He heard the long forgotten words in his head.

A foot kicked him in the side, softly. "You're going to lose yourself in your own mind. I can hardly see you anymore." He saw the feet of the boy turning around. It was the last thing he saw before darkness swallowed him once more.

  
  


  
  


  
  


_XXX_

  
  


  
  


  
  


"Did you hear that?"

He heard the voice of his brother, whispering and full of fear. A look out the window told him that it was still night. It was dark and there weren't any lights shining. No moon, no stars.

He threw his blanket off his body, his feet landing softly on the cold floor. He brought his finger up to his lips, showing Dante to make no sound. His brother nodded.

Making no sound, he walked slowly towards their door, pressing his ear against the wood. But he couldn't hear anything, only the loud ticking of the old longcase clock at the end of the floor behind their door.

"What's going on?" Dante whispered loudly and his brother hushed, waving his hand. He looked angrily at the boy before a loud crash ran through their home. The moment it happened, he threw the door open rushing downstairs.

"Stay in your room!" he called over his shoulder before his body was out of Dante's sight. Dante jumped out of his bed running to the door as well.

"I mean it! I kill you if you do!" Dante heard the voice of his brother, immediately stopping his tracks, before he could reach the door.

Vergil could hear glass breaking as he ran across the floor and right into the kitchen. He saw splinters of glass laying on the floor as the window was broken next to the stove. It was still lit and a pot of boiling water was standing on the flame while a cup and a teabag were lying next to it. "Mom?" he asked quietly, entering the living room; it was as empty as the kitchen was. The fireplace was lit and the wood was cracking loudly in the silence, casting big shadows that were dancing across the walls.

He glared at the stairs that led into the basement. He took small steps that brought him nearer and he stopped at the top, starring into the darkness. "Mom?" he asked again, taking a hold of the banisters. He slowly took one stair and another as he walked downstairs. He heard a muffled rumble and stopped within his movements.

"Vergil?" He could hear his brother whispering above him, leaning at the banisters staring, down in the hall of their home. His blonde hair seemed to beam softly in the darkness.

"Go back, Dante!" he hissed, slowly walking down.

He stopped only a few inches away from the door. At some point it must have been broken; the hinges weren't in their places anymore, but it was still closed.

"Why did you come here?" It was his mother's voice, and she sounded as if she were crying. He felt a lump forming in his throat as his body stiffened. "My children are here!"

"Then they have to watch." It was a low and dark voice speaking. He reached for the door and pressed his ear against the wood where it was splintered, as something had hit it there.

"No! You can't do that. Do you have no shame?" He heard flesh hitting flesh followed by another rumble and the soft cry of his mother. He clenched his teeth as he felt anger rising, one of his hands forming a fist.

"Choose your words carefully. I could have have raped you right in front of their eyes, then kill you and while you take your last breath, I could have killed them as well. Is this what you wish for?"

He didn't hear the answer of his mother as hard as he tried.

Then, "Let them go," followed by a low chuckle.

"No. Besides, he's already here."

"What...?" His mother sounded surprised and before he realized it, the door flew open and a dark, big hand with long claws and skin as dark as the night reached for his shirt, grabbing him by the collar, dragging him inside. His small hands found the arm that belonged to the hand, but it was so much bigger than a human hand.

"Don't!" His mother was by his side before he knew it, tugging at the arm as well. Her eyes were big with fear and unleashed tears. But she wasn't strong enough. He heard the door slamming shut behind him as the smell of roses filled his nose. He saw her wearing a blue dress, a dress she often wore. It was her favorite one. But now there were stains of blood on it. Her lip had split open where he had hit her. A dark growl formed in his throat, as he bit down on the arm until he tasted blood. Even though he knew it must have hurt him, his body was thrown against a wall as the beast didn't care. He heard ringing in his ears as his body slid limp to the ground. He saw his mother leaning over him, stroking his hair as she formed words he couldn't understand while the lines of his mother's face were still blurry.

"...ove you. Don't watch." A hand grabbed her hair, throwing her to the other side of the room away from him. A dark shadow was hovering above Vergil but he couldn't see as tears started to run down his cheeks. A blunt force hit him in the stomach. He looked down as he felt something wet covering his shirt. Blood. There was blood.

"Mom?" he asked as if he had had a bad dream and needed the warm and soothing words only a mother could give. He coughed and it hurt. The shadow above him rose and soon he could see nothing but the dark mass in front of him. A cry escaped his lips as he felt an invincible pressure taking a hold of his head, crushing down on him. His hands found his head, holding it as if they could do something against it. But it felt as if his head was caught between some vice. He couldn't take it anymore as the pain grew, his throat already horse from screaming.

"No!" He heard her voice full of pain and fear.

He fell down to the ground holding his head as he saw a bright light. The shadow above him suddenly disappeared as it turned around. The pressure in his head was suddenly gone, the only thing left was a really bad headache. He laid on the cold floor of their basement, panting heavily. His mother was out of his sight as well as the shadow. White spots were dancing in front of his eyes, as if he wasn't getting enough air into his lungs.

Somewhere in the distance he could hear his brother's voice screaming as someone was pounding against the door, while he heard how a body was shoved around the basement, hitting walls and furniture. He wanted to move, wanted to run away, wanted to get Yamato, wanted to kill the man who caused him and his mother so much pain, but he couldn't move; his body still too exhausted.

He heard a high-pitched scream and then something fell over him and knocked the air out of his lungs. His brother's voice was no longer heard; the only thing that was audible were the soft pants of the beast.

"Do whatever you need to do," the voice told someone Vergil couldn't see. He shoved the thing that laid on him aside, looking at it as he did. His mother's eyes stared back at him, her face covered with blood. Her lips moved but no sound came out. The banging at the door returned, and shouting was heard, but he didn't care. He stilled in his motions and just kept staring at his dying mother.

"Vergil..." He heard her speaking his name as her eyes were searching for something. A loud cry broke from the door and his mother's eyes went big. "Dante!"

He reached out for her, but her body was suddenly ripped away from him. A loud roar ran through his body, shaking him violently. His eyes found a demon standing above them, its claws sticking out of his mother's abdomen. He heard her gurgling as blood was leaving her mouth, dripping on the floor beneath them. The demon turned his hand and the body of his mother fell down next to him. He just stared at her in shock, not able to move. His eyes moved from his mother's body to the demon. He could see raw flesh sticking to its claws and he knew it belonged to his mother. He couldn't feel anything anymore but powerless. He wanted to move, wanted to hold his mother in his arms, wanted to scream at his brother to run away, to save himself for he was sure to die as well. As tears were rolling down his face he looked at his mother again. Dead eyes were staring at him, but her lips formed only one word: "Run..." His hand had found hers, squeezing it gently. He realized only seconds later that this gesture was no use, since her arm had been separated from her body. The blood of his mother was covering him from head to toe and he couldn't tell anymore which was hers or his.

He heard the demon moving above him and a reaping hook flashing in front of him before it crushed down on his body, but before the steel could cut through his flesh, his mother moved with her last strength. She brought her body between his and the weapon. Vergil witnessed how it cut through her body. The sound of ripping flesh and breaking bones carved themselves in his memory. As his mother's body hit the ground, he knew she was dead. With horror filled eyes, he looked at her corpse.

The demon above him screamed furiously and he knew, if he wouldn't move now, if he wouldn't do  _anything_ now; his mother's death would be pointless. She had given her own life to save him... he needed to survive; he needed to save his brother.

The demon took his weapon, holding it high above his head before it crushed down on him once more.

  
  


  
  


  
  


XXX

  
  


  
  


  
  


Nero suddenly took a breath, like a man who was drowning. He breathed and breathed and filled his lungs with the so much needed air. He felt tracks of tears on his face and his throat hurt like he had screamed.

"Roses," the boy by his side said, looking off in the far distance. "That's what she smelt like, didn't she?"

Still short of breath, Nero just nodded. "I- I dreamed of the basement before, of the staircase, but..."

"You were always too afraid to go down that path. I know."

"How?"

"I was there, don't you remember?"

"No- I... it was your memory all alone, wasn't it." It wasn't a question but a statement.

Regardless, Vergil still answered. "Yes."

_And Dante's as well?_

"... Dante." Suddenly, the pictures were returning. The old mansion, the man, the demons, Dante screaming at him and pain running through his body. The memory he had before, him and Dante standing in the middle of Fortuna, and Kyrie...

The boy looked for something in his pocket, then handed it out to Nero.

"Take it."

"What?" Nero looked at a small pocketknife. And he remembered the pocketknife laying on the small table near to his, no, to Vergil's bed in their, his, home.

"Take it."

"What for?"

"My father gave it to me. I used it to carve wood. It was already here when I was came here. I guess at some point in my life it was important to me."

"Then why give it to me?"

"I think it could be important for you, too. Besides, I don't have anything to carve here." Vergil tried to smile. And Nero suddenly realized. While this was the body of a young boy in front of him, the years in his exile didn't change his age, but his mind. This boy wasn't a boy – he was a man trapped in a timeless body. This child had endured so much. He swallowed hard.

His fingers brushed the hilt of the knife. "Thanks..." He took the blade and the second his fingers were wrapping around the shaft, a bright light captured him, taking him with it.

  
  


  
  


XXX

  
  


  
  


  
  


He opened his eyes and with it came the pain that ran through his body.

"Nero!"

Dante's scream broke through him. Nero's head came up and he saw the mantis in front of him and the hilt of his sword still sticking out of his chest. He felt something heavy in his pocket of his pants and a new strength filled his body. He brought his hands to the wall behind him and pushed his palms against the wood. He pushed his body forward with the strength of his arms. A scream formed in his throat as his body slid over the sharp blade until it slid over the hilt. He fell to the ground, his knees hitting the floor as his upper body fell forward and his hands caught his fall. Blond hairs fell into his face, blocking his view, but he could hear a gasp from the demon in front of him. He felt dizzy because of the loss of blood, but he still managed to get up. He turned around and saw his sword pinned to the wall. He took the grip of the hilt and took it out. The weight in his hand felt familiar and right.

"Now..." he said as he turned around, pointing the sword upwards so it was facing the the mantis. "Let's get down to business." He ran forwards, shoving his swords in front of him, aiming for the mantis' belly. But the demon rushed to the side, too fast for his sword and it crushed into the next wall, tearing it down.

"Nero!" He heard Dante's voice again and turned around, a grin showing on his lips. The other man was still fighting with the other demon and it seemed whenever his blade found its body and cut through limbs, they would regrow. It was like fighting against windmills. The mantis hit after him and he quickly jumped backwards, doing a backward flip and landed securely on both of his feet, slashing after a clawed leg, and his blade found muscles and flesh and cut easily through it. A pained howl ran through the air followed by an angry, deep growl. The mantis stumbled backwards with only three intact legs left.

Out of the corner of his eyes he saw how Dante slashed after a leg of the beast, too, and after he cut through it, this time a new one wouldn't grow back.

"Dante!" He drew the attention of the man to him. "We have to aim for the same spot. They're somehow connected. When you cut through the right leg, I'll do the same. They'll both get hurt!" Excitement swung in his voice as new hope pumped through his body. Both hunters aimed for another leg, both of their blades finding their target again. They fought side by side, mirroring their own actions in order to slay the demons in front of them. As both demons lost their second leg, they were no longer able to hold their bodies above the ground. They both collapsed, but still fought against the devil hunters.

"The head! Aim for the head!" He could hear Dante's words as he jumped upon the mantis' shoulder, holding Red Queen above his head to cut through the neck while Dante did the same. Just inches before his sword would meet the demon's neck, something hit him in the side and threw him off the mantis. He fell down on the floor, his wounded shoulder hitting the floor first. New pain rushed through his body and his vision was, for a few seconds, black. But it was enough time for the mantis to rise above him, raising his remaining leg to let it rush down on Nero. The claws found their way through his stomach, pinning him down to the ground. He almost didn't feel the pain as his body was hurt so much already. He had lost his sword from the impact, the blade laying uselessly on the ground only a couple of inches away from his hand. But as hard as he tried to stretch his arm, to reach for the sword, his fingers wouldn't grab it. He cursed as the foul breath of the mantis crept over his face, as its giant mouth hovered only mere inches above him.

"Yamato." Only a word, but so much more. It still wanted the sword and Nero knew the mantis wouldn't let him die before he granted its wish. He just spit in its face, but the demon wouldn't withdraw. Before he realized it, it drew its claw out of his stomach, before it rushed down on him again. And again. And again. He saw a flash of red coming to his side, jumping on the mantis, cutting mercilessly at the demons back. It helped though, because it stopped attacking Nero, but the damage was already done. He could hardly breathe anymore, as the pain was too much.

"Come on now, kid; this is getting embarrassing. Just kill the fucker already!"

And as he leaned to the side to try to get a hold of his sword again, he felt it poking into his thigh. He immediately stopped his movement and shoved one hand into his pocket to grab the small knife. He opened the blade and turned around. He saw how Dante was thrown off the mantis by the other demon, his sword cutting after it. "The head, Dante! The head!" he shouted at the other hunter, as he aimed right between the mantis' eyes. He saw how Dante swung himself onto the other demon's shoulder, ready to strike the final blow. As Dante lifted his sword to let it crush down on the demon's neck, he threw the knife like a dagger at the mantis. The blade cut through the air and as Dante's sword cut into the demon's neck, his blade found its target right between the eyes of the mantis.

The claw withdrew from his stomach as the demon reared up before collapsing to the side. He saw the head of the other demon falling down on the floor while Dante still stood on the beast's shoulders. The mantis' body began to glow in a low white light, and Nero watched its body begin to fade until it was gone, while the body of the other demon turned into a pile of ashes.

For a few seconds the only thing that could be heard was the hard breathing of both men, before Dante slowly turned to Nero.

The older man picked him slowly up and Nero collapsed into his arms. Dante helped him to stand but he still needed help to support himself while Dante's hands took a hold of his hips. Blue eyes captured his in a stare as he felt broken pieces of wood carve into his back as his body relaxed against a nearby wall, but he didn't care. He felt like coming back from the dead and the worst part was that it could actually be true. He didn't know what had happened while he was out and he realized that he was too scared to ask. The look in Dante's eyes was almost enough.

He felt a hand travel from his hip over his stomach and chest right to his shoulder then back again. Where his fingers touched his skin through the ripped fabric, it felt like soft electrical jolts. Nero leaned forward so his head could rest on the other male's shoulder while his arms reached around Dante's body to hold on to his back.

His throat hurt and he had an incredible need for water. His lips felt so very dry.

"I'm sorry..." He heard his voice and a whisper of broken words that cut through the silence.

"Fucking idiot." Dante's reply wasn't very polite, but he didn't expect anything else. To be honest, he was surprised that the devil-hunter hadn't cut off his head yet, but instead held him close to his body, his breath crawling softly over his neck.

"Now what?" Nero asked, and his eyes closed on themselves as he felt how tired he really was. His nose was near Dante's Adam's Apple and he could feel how it moved as he took a deep breath and swallowed hard. He smelled like rain.

Dante's body moved a little bit as one of his hands traveled around his waist and stopped at his lower back. He wished his shirt was torn there, too.

"Now the important part is..." Dante's hand moved on its own and started a circling motion, "to get you better."

"...mh?" He wasn't able to speak any further as the movements of the other's hand soothed him.

Dante withdrew his hand and turned Nero to the left to lay his arm around his shoulder so he could support him while they walked. He felt how Dante's body stiffened and his gaze captured a shiny object laying on the ground a few feet in front of him. He freed himself from Dante and took slow steps forward it. He stopped in front of the object and picked it up. He looked at the pocketknife for the first time since he had regained consciousness. It looked the same as it had looked in his dream, but since the last events he wasn't so sure if it really was a dream. How had the knife from his dream gotten into his pocket?

He heard steps behind him and felt Dante's body standing only inches behind him.

"Where did you got this?" He heard the older hunter's voice washing over his body and he shuddered.

"I don't know." And it was the truth. He remembered being trapped  _somewhere_ , talking to this kid that called himself Vergil, the memory of his murdered mother, but... was this real? Or did he fantasize while he was at the brink of death? Maybe he had found the knife somewhere a couple of days ago, forgot that he had it, and mixed things up in his mind.

A low chuckle ran through Dante's body and Nero could feel how a hand squeezed his shoulder.

"I never thought I would see it again." But even though Dante had chuckled only seconds before, his voice sounded empty.

"Then it's really yours," Nero said, as his fingers tracked every line of the knife in his hands while he leaned his body against Dante's, as he was still so very weak.

"No. It was my brother's."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Alea iacta est - The die is cast.


	7. What We Dreamed Of

He stared at the knife in the youth's hands as Nero's fingers were tracing the worn-out handle; he almost reached out for it, ripping it out of his hands as he feared Nero's touch would destroy the memory that laid within the small knife.

He never thought he would see it again, but now as he saw it, it felt like as if he have stumbled right into his past, its ghost lingering in Nero's tentative clutch. He could feel how the kid's body relaxed into his, his back leaning against him, the knife almost slipping out of his hold as it had suddenly become too heavy for him to hold. Dante reached out with one arm, catching it as his hand brushed over Nero's fingers, his own cheek slightly touching the one of the other male as he leaned forward. His fingers found the old handle and the heavy weight felt familiar in his grip. Without drawing back, he looked at the knife.

"I won't take a 'don't know' for an answer, Nero." His breath crept over his skin as Dante's stare never left the knife. "Where did you get this?" he asked again.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he watched how Nero's eyelids began to close as the youth had no more strength left, but he wouldn't let him have his peace as long as he didn't get his answer.

"I really don't know," the boy answered him and his voice sounded as if he were half asleep, but his focus still laid on the knife that Dante held. The devil hunter pulled his arm back in a sudden action, before he swirled Nero around and pushed him against a wall which was hardly whole due the events of their fight against the demons. His arms framed the boy as he rested them at each side of his head, staring at Nero who was looking at him with big, blue eyes.

"What the fuck, Dante?" he snarled angrily at him and tried to get past the older hunter, but was pushed back immediately. His back collided hard with the wall and Dante could hear how the air was knocked out of his lungs. A pained expression was shown on Nero's face and he could see how new blood found its way through his torn shirt. He was almost sorry for treating the kid without so much as a care, since he was badly wounded – almost.

"Yeah, what the fuck, Nero?" He repeated the words in a low voice as he leaned into the boy. "Was it just laying around there? I saw you throwing it; I didn't know it was my brother's until you picked it up. So where did you get it?" He was merely inches away from his face as his eyes stared into his.

Nero couldn't take his stare any longer, the intense fire in Dante's eyes threatening to burn him alive. "Someone gave it to me," he answered him after a while, not sure if it was what the other wanted to hear. "You wouldn't believe it anyway," he added after a while, his voice only but a low whisper.

"Try me." Dante wanted to encourage him to tell him more, but the breathing of the boy became more and more erratic. He took another look at the boy's wounds – they should have healed by now, at least getting better, but they were still bleeding freely. His demon blood should have taken care of it, but didn't.

"Your brother. He gave it to me." Nero's eyes closed again and this time he couldn't fight against the exhaustion any longer. His body slipped slowly down the wall before Dante caught him. He stared at the youth in confusion.

"Vergil?"

"You have another brother I don't know about?" Nero whispered in Dante's neck where his head rested against one of his shoulders. "I don't feel so good," he added, sounding younger than he really was. "What happened when I was out?"

"Out?"

"Unconscious."

"When?"

He felt Nero's body shifting underneath his hold, a low quiver running through him, his legs trembling terribly.

"When I -" Nero stopped, his body stiffening as he recalled the memory in his head, "when I was pinned against that wall, claws digging into my shoulders... does that ring a bell?"

"That was only a few seconds."

"Seconds?" He felt Nero's lips smile against his exposed skin of his neck. "Dante?"

"Yes?"

"I really don't feel good... I – what's happening?"

Dante sighed. "I don't know."

"I need to sleep."

He felt like a jerk. "I should get you back to Devil May Cry. Your wounds are still bleeding. Guess I need so sew you up." He wanted to sound calm, wanted to sound casual, but he couldn't. He still felt the anger inside him. Nero had Yamato – the sword picked him as his owner. Now he had his brother's old pocketknife. Again it seemed like something that had belonged to his brother had picked Nero instead of him. But why? He couldn't even understand how a small blade like this could have killed a demon, but it did and he was sure that there was more behind it and he wanted to know what – now. But Nero wasn't in the condition to tell him, not yet. He was close to beating the truth out of him, he realized suddenly, stepping back as he did.

Nero stumbled at the sudden loss of support, but caught his balance immediately. Dante frowned as Nero took a look at him. "What is it?" he wanted to know, his voice hoarse. He used one arm against the wall to hold himself upwards while his other hand was clutched over his abdomen, blood seeping through his fingers slowly.

"I'm just wondering about the connection you seem to have to my brother."

"And that's why you want to kill me?"

Dante blinked in surprise.

"Because you sure look like you'd want to do it any second now," Nero told him, coughing.

A smile formed on Dante's face. "I want to know the truth. How could I do that if you were dead? I need you."

Nero laughed bitterly. "Oh, that's good to know. I thought we were partners. But you just use me to get to your brother, don't you?"

It didn't take long for Dante to answer. "Yes."

Nero just stared at him. "You fucking bastard." He leaned with one of his shoulders against the wall as he started to walk, leaving a bloody trail behind him as he aimed for the destroyed front door.

Dante reached out with his left arm, opening his mouth as he wanted to say something. He wanted to say 'Nero, don't, it's not like that,' but that wouldn't be the truth. So the only thing he said was just "Yamato," and Nero stopped in his tracks.

Dante couldn't see him not turning around as he was still facing the other side of the living room, the front door at his back. But he could feel the betrayal Nero felt, rising like steam upon him.

"You're kidding me," Nero said, the hurt in his voice load and clear. "The fucking sword?"

"It's so much more..." Dante started, but couldn't finish the sentence, the memories of Temen-ni-gru returning in a hot wave. He didn't want to have  _this_ conversation with Nero now, and especially not like this. Nero thought that he was nothing more than a pawn for him, that he didn't really matter, but the truth was, he was right. First came Yamato and his brother and then came Nero – not the other way around. Did he really think it could be like this? He met the boy only for a couple of hours; he was impressed of his fighting skills and technique, but that was it – no more feelings.

And then it hit him: while Dante didn't expect anything from Nero, the kid expected  _everything_ from him – he didn't know what that was, but it would explain the hurt feelings. The kid still had so much to learn about life and it ugly sides – the sooner, the better.

Dante turned around, laying one hand on Nero's shoulder. "We should get you back to Devil May Cry," he repeated his words. Nero nodded, too tired to say anything else, embracing his fate like a blanket. He couldn't fight any longer – not physically, not mentally. Dante knew the boy was at his mercy; he had nowhere to go, wounded and hurt in a city where he knew no one.

He didn't only feel like a jerk. Dante  _was_  a jerk.

The boy struggled to keep himself on his feet but he managed the long walk back to the car without the help of Dante. His eyes never left the kid and as he sat behind the steering wheel, he couldn't turn the key to start the car. Nero crashed beside him, adjusting the backrest so he could half sit, half lay in the passenger seat.

He turned his head to look at the kid, but Nero had already closed his eyes. Dante could tell that he wasn't asleep.

"I was thinking..." Nero started, his voice low and quiet. Dante turned the key around and the engine of the car started. "When I was attacked in Fortuna... the demon told me that you would come to get the sword... I never thought you would, though, because you could have just taken it back then after the incident with the Order. But you didn't. But I think the fucker was right. You want Yamato after all." He chuckled. "God, Dante, you're so full of shit."

"God has nothing to do with it, Nero." He realized he called the kid too often by his name – he should stop it. Names were too personal.

"I'll go back to Fortuna. After all, it started there. It should end there. I thought I would help you so I came all the way, but clearly you don't want any help."

 _You got that right._ But he didn't say it out loud.

"What will you do now?"

The question hung between them like the Sword of Damocles – Dante was sure the thin strand that held it would rip with his answer.

"I'll do what the demon told you. I'll take Yamato back."

**Chapter 6: What We Dreamed Of**

He made up his mind and now that he had spoken the words, there was no way of taking them back. It didn't have to do anything with Nero, but with the Yamato and Vergil. Well, theoretically.

_But there are those who want it. Who want to gain more power._

_Tell me, do you still hear his voice?_

_I killed my brother._

He had killed his brother, and if he needed to, he would kill the kid, too. He didn't want to go down that path, but he had to face the truth. Something big was going on that involved his and Vergil's past, and Nero was accidentally dragged into this after he had accidentally restored the sword. Accidentally.

_If Vergil leaves your body, your own soul is going to break._

_If Vergil's strong enough to leave your body, you'll die._

As the man had spoken those words it had sounded like it was a made deal – it was just a matter of time now. And it was true. He knew that all those words he spoke were true, that his brother's soul was captured within Nero's own. It would suit Vergil. Too stubborn to just die, too stubborn to just vanish in hell. Just how did he manage to do it?

He would take Yamato back, not sure what would happen to Nero if he did so. The kid will lose his Devil Bringer, that's for sure, but he would survive. After all, there would be the slight chance that Vergil's soul was within the sword, but to be sure about that, he needed to talk to the boy. About the dreams, about the voice, about everything that Nero hadn't told him yet, but had gladly talked with a stranger about it. If someone was to open the Hell Gate again, then he needed to stop it – even though he couldn't care less what would happen to the human world, but after all, his father risked his life to save the world he was born into. He couldn't let him have had risked his own life for nothing. No. Not after what had happened to his mother, who had so deeply loved the world they lived in. If someone would open the Hell Gate again, if he would do nothing to prevent an event like that, then he would betray everything his parents had stood for.

"I'll lose the Devil Bringer," Nero managed to say as he sat slowly up to look at Dante, who focused on the street in front of him.

"Probably."

"Will I die?"

Dante scoffed. "Probably not."

"Will he leave my body, when you take the sword back?"

"I don't know."

"Then fuck you, Dante! I  _need_ the sword, I  _need_..."

"To gain more power?" Oh, where had he heard those words before? "You saved your girl, kid. You saved a city that didn't want to be saved. You did everything you could. You don't need the sword anymore, do you?"

"How could I go back after where I had been?" he whispered, not caring if Dante could understand him, but the devil hunter understood just well.

"After you had that much power, you mean. You sound just like my brother. Don't let it consume you."

"You think he's right, don't you." It wasn't a question and Dante knew that he was talking about the old man.

"Yes."

"I- ugh, fuck..." Nero wanted to turn around, but his wounds kept him sitting where he was.

"Don't move or they'll re-open again. Just shut up until I get you back and then, you'll tell me everything you know."

He saw how Nero opened his mouth, but then shut it again. They were silent for the rest of the way back to Devil May Cry.

  
  


  
  


XXX

  
  


  
  


He kicked the door so hard that it slammed against the wall and almost broke, but Dante didn't care as he walked with big steps through his office until he reached his desk. He pulled one of the drawers open and looked through it, as if he were searching for something. Nero shuffled behind him and fell down on the couch, a happy sigh leaving his lips as his body hit the red leather. Before his eyes could close, Dante was at his side, pulling him up so he would sit.

"Take your clothes off," he told the boy, as he placed a washcloth, band aids, sanitizer and bandages together with a needle and twine on the small couch table. He saw how Nero grimaced.

"I never thought a man would be the first one to say those words to me," he tried to joke as Dante rose one elegant eyebrow, but didn't say anything. He did as he was told to and slowly pulled back his torn shirt to expose his bloody chest. Dante took some of the sanitizer and put it on the washcloth, using it to clean Nero's wounds. As the liquid touched one of the wounds on his shoulder, he couldn't help but hiss.

"Don't be such a pussy," Dante told him as he picked up the needle and twine. His fingers traced his chest as they reached for the wounds on his shoulders. He leaned closer, his breath touching Nero's neck.

"Why do you hate me?" Nero suddenly asked as he sat still, Dante stinging the needle through his skin, pulling the twine with it. His voice ran through Dante's body like the rumble of a thunderstorm. He sighed as he tautened the twine.

"I don't," he replied, while he kept his focus on Nero's wounds.

"Then why do you keep pushing me away?"

He stopped with his movements to look at Nero. The kid had turned his face to stare into his eyes, but he didn't dare to return the look.

"Why should I keep you near?" he asked in return, speaking the truth, and out of the corner of his eyes he could see how Nero blinked a few times.

"I – I just thought because of the connection we have, that-"

"What connection, kid? You certainly share a connection with my brother, but not with me. We only met for a couple of hours in Fortuna; we fought together. I didn't take you on a date, so don't act like a chick that's desperately waiting for me to call. That's not gonna happen." He closed the wound and turned to the second one on the right shoulder, but Nero suddenly pushed him away, getting some space between them.

Dante kept where he was, staring at the needle he held in his hand, the silver line barely visible.

"I need to know. I need to know how you got dragged into this mess, kid. This is not your battle to fight, it's mine. You shouldn't even be here, but you are. So I need to know,  _why_ are you here. Tell me everything I don't know."

Dante reached into his pocket, drawing the knife out of his and laid it on the table in front of them. He saw how Nero stared at it.

"Your brother got this from your father," he said after a while, waiting for Dante to say something, but the devil hunter didn't. His face didn't show any emotion at all. "I – Dante, tell me what happened the night your mother was killed."

And now the demon hunter moved. He blinked a couple of times, staring at the knife as it were a snake. His expression showed the hurt feelings inside him. "How do you know?" he asked the kid in a hoarse voice, not realizing how he got shoved down that path so suddenly. He had lost control and he didn't like it. How was it possible for Nero being so vulnerable one moment and the next he was holding the Damocles sword in his hands?

"Are you sure you want to go that road, kid?"

Nero stared at him. "I've already been there."

  
  


  
  


  
  


_XXX_

  
  


  
  


  
  


"I mean it! I kill you if you do!"

He stopped within his movement right in the middle of their room. There was no moon this night and no light that would create big shadows on the walls, scaring him – but even though he was still scared, tonight he wouldn't hide underneath his sheets. He had seen Vergil running out of their room down the stairs and he had wanted to follow him, but his brother had forbid it. It wasn't like him to listen to his brother's order – he was really only a few minutes older than him – but he always acted like it were years. Normally, he wouldn't have listened – he would had run down the stairs to follow his steps – but not tonight.

Tonight, everything was different. He tiptoed to his brother's nightstand and opened the top drawer.

He saw it laying there and, without thinking, he took it before he slowly went to the door, trying not to made any sound. Dante glared around the corner, down the hall, and back again.

He heard glass breaking and almost ran back to his bed immediately, but kept standing in his place.

"Mom?" It was his brother's voice, low and muffled since he was downstairs, probably in the kitchen. He couldn't wait any longer. He slowly walked outside their room to the banister, to lean forward and look down in the big hall. "Mom?" his brother asked again and seconds later he saw Vergil coming out of their living room, heading for the stairs to their basement.

"Vergil?" he asked, leaning as much forward as he could, only standing on the tips of his toes.

"Go back, Dante!" his brother hissed loudly, but he wouldn't move. He watched as his brother took the stairs until he was too far gone. He felt his heart racing and his breathing became erratic. He was so full of fear that he almost couldn't think straight. All he knew was that he was alone and that was  _never_ good. He wanted to be near his brother, wanted to see his mother, wanted her to hold him in her arms, to tell him everything was going to be okay... He often hated it, when his mother would embrace him like it were the last time she would see him, but now he wanted nothing more than to feel her skin against his and to smell the sweet scent of her hair.

His feet found the cold stairs as he slowly walked down. Before he could reach the end of the stairs, he heard a stifled scream and the loud slam of a door. As adrenaline pushed his body down the stairs faster as a human being could run, he felt the fear taking a hold of his heart as it would almost burst.

He was near panic, ready to cry and scream for his mother, but as he took the second stairs down to the basement, no sound would escape his lips until he reached the door. He heard his mother cry, he heard a deep voice and a loud "No!" followed by "Vergil..."

He slammed with his little fists against the door, kicking against it, hitting the doorknob as it wouldn't move, but it didn't open. "Mom!" he screamed, hearing how his own voice cracked as it was full of fear. He stopped and pushed his ear against the door – it was silent and his face went grey.

"Mom... Vergil," he whispered, as he leaned against the door while his legs couldn't hold the weight of his body anymore. His palms laid flat against the wood where it had splintered, but not because of him hammering against it. He crouched on the floor, his head resting against the door as he could hear his brother screaming, furniture moving and breaking, a deep growl of a dark voice. His chest hurt as it felt as it were ripping apart. Tears were running freely down his face as sobs escaped his throat. He couldn't find any words anymore as he was hugging himself, too afraid to move further.

"Mom..." he formed the word as it was heard between his sobs and then it was silent. The noise behind the door had died and he tried desperately to hear something, anything. He pushed his hands against the door and he felt the wood move. The door opened slowly and he stuck his head into the room.

He saw the big, dark body of a demon standing at the other side of the room. It arms were above his head and it held a weapon in its hand. He looked passed the demon and saw his brother sitting on the floor, a bloody mess was laying next to him. The weapon of the demon crushed down on his brother and before he knew what was happening, his body rushed forward. He took the knife out of his pocket, jumping at the back of the demon, driving the knife deep into one shoulder blade. Distracted from the sudden pain, the weapon missed Vergil by a few inches. His brother's eyes found him and he saw pure horror in them. He cried silently as he rushed to Dante's side, away from the demon. He pulled his brother from its back, heading for the door.

"But, but mom!" he screamed as he stumbled with his brother, but Vergil only shook his head.

"Don't look back," he told him. But he couldn't listen and did it. With one moment his innocent world was destroyed for good. He looked back and the bloody mess he had seen only moments before was his mother. Before his brain could memorize the picture forever, he saw a dark shadow flashing above them, landing in front of him and Vergil, blocking their way.

"Master told me you were mine for the taking," the creature said, slipping its tongue out to lick over his lips. Vergil held out his arm to shove Dante behind his body, but he took one step forward, holding the knife in front of him. Vergil saw the small weapon in his hand and ripped it out of it.

"You idiot," he hissed at him as he raised his other hand as if he wanted to slap him, but didn't, and turned around instead to face the demon.

"I'll kill you if you don't move," he spat at the devil, which earned him a creepy laugh from the creature.

"No!" Dante put a hand on his brother's shoulder, trying to hold him back – he didn't want to lose him, too; he'd rather die than live alone. Vergil shook off his hand, staring angrily at the demon.

"You? Kill me?" It laughed again as Vergil rushed forward. He was small enough to run through its legs, turning around as he arrived at the other side, jumping high to cling to its back just as Dante did only seconds before. He quickly drove the knife deep into its spine – too deep. The demon tried to fight the boy off, but couldn't reach for it.

As the blade cut through his spine, he was no longer able to hold himself up and collapsed to the ground.

The demon was struggling as he tried to hang onto his life. But Vergil wouldn't let him as he turned the demon around, hovering above its form. He held the knife to the demon's throat, ready to cut, but Dante was at his side within seconds, laying a hand gently over Vergil's.

"Don't," he said and it almost sounded like a plea. He locked his eyes with Vergil's.

"Why?" his brother asked, and his voice sounded so full of pain that Dante flinched.

"Please..." He brought his brother's hand away from the demon. He had seen enough blood; he couldn't stand it any longer. He wanted the beast to go away.

"No." Vergil breathed the last word, his voice now cold as ice and so very different from the one Dante knew. He lifted his hand and grabbed the head of the demon to expose his throat. Vergil pressed the blade into the tender flesh, before he pulled away, ready to strike.

Dante saw the silver blade rushing through the air and his eyes found the form of the demon before them on the ground.

His heart stopped and the world slowed. He turned his head around and saw the knife in Vergil's hand. He tried to reach out for him as he looked back to the demon.

"No!"

The warm blood of the demon splattered his face, as Vergil had cut through his throat. His older brother fell down to his knees as he stared at the demon. He was gurgling, as Vergil had cut through his vocal cords as well.

Hot tears ran down his cheeks. "Oh god, no," he whimpered, as he couldn't hold himself any longer. He collapsed over the dead demon, crying freely.

He felt Vergil's eyes on him as his hands found something underneath the demon's body just beneath its neck.

"Dante, what-"

He pulled out the necklace his mother got from their father. It was smeared with blood.

"Mom..." he heard Vergil's voice, but he sounded as if he were far away as Dante hugged the body of their dead mother.

  
  


  
  


  
  


XXX

  
  


  
  


  
  


" _He_ killed your mother." It wasn't a question.

Dante nodded.

"But I saw her dying! It was that demon who had killed her."

He felt Nero's eyes resting on his back as he turned away, trying to hide the pain that was written all over his face. He hadn't talked about that night for a long time and now he knew why he'd buried the memory so deep within him.

"It was an illusion." He almost choked on the words. "While we were seeing a demon that was trying to kill us, she wanted to get us to safety. We didn't know – she didn't know."

He turned around to face Nero, cold eyes staring into the kid's. "He never took you there, am I right?" Nero nodded.

"I often dreamed about the stairs and the basement. I could hear a woman cry, but I never watched her dying." He stared down at the old wooden floor as he didn't dare to look at Dante. He suddenly realized that he shared something with Dante that the other man didn't want to share with anyone. He felt like a parasite.

"Back in the old mansion, something happened. I was unconscious, but it was a lot longer than you said, old man. I talked to a boy. He said," he looked up to stare into Dante's blue eyes, "his name was Vergil. I – I think it was something I imagined during the fight. An illusion, maybe. He told me I was starting to lose myself in my own mind. He told me I would hide, but..."

"No." Dante shook his head and crossed his arms in front of his chest. Nero wasn't hiding from anything; he himself hid something and he wanted to know what it was. "What is it that  _you're_  hiding?"

He locked his eyes with Nero's, holding his gaze until the kid couldn't stand it any longer. The boy wanted to escape, but he was trapped between Dante and the red leather couch he was sitting on. Dante was leaning forward, pressing the boy's body further into the coach. He saw Nero's Adam's Apple move as he swallowed.

"I'm not hiding anything," he choked, as he stared at his collar bone, a slight blush creeping over his cheeks.

"Bullshit," Dante whispered, his breath dancing over Nero's exposed neck, creating goosebumps. Nero reached out with his human arm, resting it gently against Dante's chest as if he wanted to push him away, but couldn't.

"Well?" Dante teased him, rising one eyebrow as he was waiting for the answer. He could almost hear the beating of the kid's heart. Nero opened his mouth and he thought he was going to say something, but instead a fist collided with his chin and he stumbled backwards, surprised by the sudden attack. Nero was over him within an instant, glaring angrily at him.

"Fuck you, Dante. I thought we were friends, but it's obvious that I'm nothing to you. So why should I care telling you? Why do  _you_ even want to know? I'm leaving tomorrow; it wouldn't change anything if you knew, would it?"

He didn't answer him, just kept staring at the boy as he knew what would come next.

"You bastard, your mourning over your brother's death even after so many years. What does it say to me? That the bond your shared is even stronger than death itself. You spent your childhood with your brother, even most of your youth – I get it now. You both saw how your mother died, you lived in constant fear of what the future would bring, but you  _both_  had to deal with this burden. You  _both_  gave each other strength, love, and comfort. You  _both_  always knew that you were different, but you always had  _each other_. I, on the other side, had no one and I don't want your pity or anything else. I was alone my whole life, never knew my parents, never knew why I was cursed with  _this_!"

He showed his demonic arm to Dante.

"I spent my life asking myself what the purpose was that I was here, why I even existed – until the day I met  _you_. You were different, just as I was. The same hair, the same skills, same technique. You're a loner, just like I am, since your brother's dead. I just assumed that I could find my answers through you. I just thought I wouldn't feel so fucking different anymore."

He turned away now that the anger found its way out. He suddenly felt ashamed of sharing so much with a man he barely knew, but at the same time he felt like he'd known Dante forever. The truth was, he wanted to get to know Dante, wanted to see behind the mask the man was wearing. But he wouldn't because the man in front of him didn't feel the same thing. For Dante, Nero was just a passing-by memory that would only last for a couple of days, nothing more. He got it now. Dante was a fighter, a swordsman, but he wasn't the nice guy from next door.

And Nero didn't want him to be like that.

He saw Dante move, turning his back on him.

"You're wrong. We're not the same."

He turned around, facing the younger man and his anger. "I would choose my brother within a second over you. And I would kill him again if I needed to. But you're nothing like me or like us. Don't try to fit into something that's too big for you. You can leave for Fortuna, you can fight on your own or you stay here with me. If you choose to stay with me, to accept this mission, you have to play by my rules. You'll expect nothing of me and neither will I. So what's it going to be,  _Nero_? I'll take Yamato from you either way, there's no choice about that. But you can't hide from my brother and his enemies."

Nero scoffed. "Right now I'm starting to think that  _you_ are my enemy. If you don't give a shit about me, then how do I know you'll cover my back?"

Dante grinned, but it was empty.

"No risk, no fun."


	8. Spielmannsfluch

They had hardly spoken the last five days. Dante had never talked about taking Yamato again and Nero got the lightest of feelings that he might care about him after all.

 

He had choose not to leave, but to stay here at Devil May Cry. The devil hunter had told him he would kill him if he had to, but after the days passed and nothing happened and as he had watched Dante stare off into nothingness, he got the idea that he was figuring out a way for them to wake up from this nightmare they fell into. He never wanted to believe that the demon hunter would kill him and he never thought that he might do it – he sure hoped that his feeling wasn't betraying him. After Dante had fought against him at Fortuna, he had thought about Dante as an enemy – as the devil hunter gave him his brothers sword, the enemy became his ally and as Dante had helped him to fight against the savior an ally became a friend. Could a friend really kill him? But he had killed his brother, hadn't he? Now what would keep him from killing Nero?

 

The people at Fortuna would look at him like he was one of the demons that had attacked the city – he was adopted by Kyrie's and Creedo's parents and it was the only reason why they had tolerate him, but never accepted. Dante was never like that. Right at the moment as he had drawn Blue Rose to fire his bullets at the man who had killed his Holiness, at the moment were their swords had touched each other, Dante had accepted him as an worthy opponent. Even though he was furious at that moment, he had enjoyed fighting the man who never showed him any pity. Nero wasn't arrogant enough to think that he was an equal fighter to Dante, no, the older man was after all better than him, even though he would never admit it in front of him. But Dante could have killed him in Fortuna if he had wanted to, but he chose not to do so. Maybe Dante didn't knew it, but he had honor; he was an honorable swordsman and he wouldn't stab Nero in the back while he slept. Even on the brink of death, Nero wasn't afraid of Dante.

 

He remembered last night as he was sitting on the red leather couch and with Dante sitting at the chair of his mighty desk, resting his feet on the polished dark wood, his eyes closed in deep thoughts.

 

It was already dark outside and he just couldn't hold it any longer in. So he had to ask him.

 

“How will you be sure that I'm not going to die if you take Yamato.”

 

Dante had looked straight at him. Nero had seen him frowning and traced the lines of every muscle and bone of the face that reminded him so much of himself.

 

“He's sharing his memories with you – now, that is a good and a bad thing.”

 

Nero had looked at him, dumbfounded. Dante sighed.

 

“It means that his soul is by far more connected to yours than maybe the old man thought it was. ”

 

“Have you ever thought”, he started and looked at Dante, “that it would slow the process of Vergil taking control over me, when I don't have Yamato with me? Maybe it would actually stop it.”

 

“No. It can't be  _just_  the sword. The sword is just a thing, a piece of steel and wood. It doesn't breath, it doesn't think. To make things short: it's not alive. But you are. You're human with a demonic arm. Vergil's soul has already left the sword to become once with yours.”

 

“But then it wouldn't be a problem to remove it now would it?”

 

The other hunter sighed. “Maybe not. But if it wouldn't you know what that means don't you?”

 

It had felt like getting a blow into the stomach.

 

 

Dante continued: “It means that it doesn't matter anymore to remove or not remove the sword. His soul's already connected with yours.”

 

 

The way how Dante had put it made him realize, finally realize, that it was maybe already too late. He knew it should scare him, but it didn't. It made him furious and he just couldn't understand how Dante could just sit there, doing nothing. But maybe Dante was more the man Nero just saw and his actions weren't visible to him.

 

“How can you be so sure? How do you know all of this?”

 

Dante had pressed his lips together as he had frowned. “I don't.”, he had told him and that was it.

 

 

**Chapter 7: Spielmannsfluch**

 

 

 

Dante hadn't talk much to him after that and shortly after their short conservation he went out and left Nero by his own at the empty office. He had asked him to come with him, to get out of the tristesse of Devil May Cry, but Nero thought it would just be like acting. Did Dante expect him to sit with him at  _Love Planet,_ drinking beer, checking out babes while Nero didn't know if he would survive all of this while Dante didn't know who's going to take revenge on him for something his brother did? But maybe he didn't care.

 

He had another way of dealing with these kind of things than Dante – even though it had brought him more trouble in the past. He liked to rush into things, to get in action as soon as possible – back at Fortuna it got him almost killed.

 

A chill run through his body, creating goose bumps all over his skin. He rubbed his arms as it felt cold in the office.

 

 

It was almost 2 am and he didn't think that the devil hunter would return soon. He wasn't worried but rather annoyed. He rose from his seat and walked through the room for the millionth time that evening. He didn't want to admit it, but he was bored. Despite the fear he felt if he thought about his own future, he was bored like hell. Maybe he judged Dante too early – if he thought about it, it didn't sound that bad to get out of Devil May Cry, getting in contact with other people, thinking about something different than Yamato and demons and actually have some fun. Yeah, looking at half-naked dancers would definitely be more fun. He remembered the last time he had visited  _Love Planet_  and he still got the picture in his head of the well formed muscles dancing underneath the strippers skin as he moved his body to the music.

 

Nero shook his had – now, wasn't he supposed to imagine the tits of the girl Dante called Hazel? He scoffed as he recalled her outfit that evening and how her body felt against his as she had pressed herself into him. Somehow that thought wasn't as exciting as the one about the male stripper.

 

 

Buried in his own thoughts he starred through the windows of the office and he saw that it had snowed. The city was covered under a heavy blanket of white and ice crystals already started to bloom at the windows surface.

 

It had never snowed in Fortuna – there was only one time where he had seen snow and that was because of the demons that had took a hold of the city. It wasn't natural. To see the flakes dancing in the wind made him realize how far away he was from the city and how far away he was from the judging eyes of its residents – and he still thought of them when he was with Dante. He never would have thought that Fortuna's shadows were long enough for them to reach him here.

 

His gaze caught a figure standing outside in the middle of the street. He almost turned away as he didn't pay it any attention, but something hold him where he was standing. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion. It felt as if the temperature in the office had dropped even more and at first he thought he might had imagined it, but as he saw his own breath in a white cloud forming in front of his face, he knew that something wasn't right.

 

 

Almost on its own his hand found the knob of the door and he turned it around, opening it.

 

The cool air hit his face as his feet found the first stair; he slowly walked down on the street before he rose his eyes to meet the figure in front of him. His black clothes were free of any snow and his dark coat was lifted by the low blowing wind. His head was titled to the right as if he was curious – his eyes never left Nero as the young hunter slowly walked forwards until he stood right in front of the man.

 

His black hair was dancing in the wind as strains of it fell into his eyes, covering them.

 

Nero starred at him. He couldn't see his face, but he didn't had to to knew what was happening. “This is about Yamato, isn't it.” It was a statement.

 

No answer.

 

He took another step. His eyes traveled over the man like he was a map. Something felt very different. He felt his power like heat rising from his body. He wasn't human at all and suddenly it became all clear to Nero.

 

“ _You_  are the demon Hazel told me about. Not that scum at the mansion.” He felt the power of the man in front of him collapsing over his body like a wave and it brought him almost to the ground. His knees quivered as he had a hard time to keep himself standing. The sudden rise of power was almost overwhelming.

 

The stranger lifted his head a little, causing a black strain of hair falling over the left side of his face and a low chuckle escaped his lips.

 

“Yamato? You still have that sword with you? How nostalgic.” He cleared his throat. “I have to tell you, Vergil, that the dark lord wasn't pleased as he heard that I'd lost his merchandise.” His voice was like silk, smooth and deep, sending chills all over his body. “So yes, I came to this rotten town, looking for it – but the sword?” He scuffed. “ _I_ never had any interest in it.”

 

He shook his head, one black patch covering his left eye while the other, ever so green, starred at him. “I won't lose you a second time.”

 

Nero almost chocked on his breath. “I'm not Vergil”, he whispered the words, his human hand twitching as he searched for Red Queen, but it was still lying at Devil May Cry's office. Goose bumps spread over his arm, but he never felt the cold.

 

 

The man shifted his head ever so slightly, his mouth forming a small 'o'. “Get out of this boy. Let me talk to my slave.” He sounded amused as his gaze was still as cold as ice. He turned again.

 

Nero gritted his teeth together. “I can't and even if I could I won't. Get lost, buddy.” His human hand was trembling and he wanted so sound confident, but his voice was at the break to thremble.

 

“Ah, now you amuse me. How cute.” He took one step forward until Nero could feel his breath creeping over his face. He felt an icy fist getting a hold of his heart as an image was forming inside his head.

 

“Izrail. That's your name”, Nero almost chocked on the words as the face of the man flashed before his eyes, two pair of green eyes looking down at him. He could taste something salty on his tongue and his knees hurt like he was kneeling on rough ground.

 

“Ah, now I see”, Izrail told him and reached with one hand after him, brushing an almost white strain of hair out of his face. His fingers left a burning track. “You're not yet in control of this host, are you Vergil.”

 

Nero felt anger burning deep inside him and his fingers twitched as he wanted to punch that smug grin out of his face. But he couldn't move and he wondered if it was something that Vergil's soul did to him. Izrail's fingers found his cheek as they wandered over his skin to the back of his head, pulling him forward until their foreheads met.

 

Out of the corner of his eyes he saw how it had stopped to snow.

 

A hand pressed against Nero's chest, traveling downwards over his flat stomach, sharp nails digging into his soft flesh. “I would rip your heart out”, Izrail breathed, “but then Vergil would be dead and Mundus wouldn't be satisfied with that. He nearly killed me the last time as he thought the Son of Sparda had died. Imagine how thrilled I was as I found out he's still alive...  _somehow._  But nonetheless, I think Vergil owes me, don't you think?” He pulled away slowly, pointing at his patch with his other hand, a grin spreading over his lips, showing Nero his sharp teeth which didn't look human at all.

 

 

 

But Nero didn't care as blood was rushing through his body, its sound too loud in his ears as he could still hear Izrail's word. Images of the past were flashing inside his head and a storm of memories and lost thoughts overwhelmed him as the pieces of the puzzle got together

 

 

_You thought you could escape?_

 

 

He nearly killed me the last time as he thought the Son of Sparda had died.

 

 

_When you thought your brother could kill me, you were just as foolish as he was._

 

I have to tell you, Vergil, that the dark lord wasn't pleased as he heard that I'd lost his merchandise.

 

_You will_ never _be free of me._

 

 

Let me talk to my slave.

 

 

 

_A low, unworthy one like you hasn't earned enough respect to know, less to speak my name …_

 

 

“Mundus...” Nero said, suddenly short of breath. His legs gave away and his knees hit the ground hard as he fell. His gaze became empty as he starred off into the space before him, forgetting about the man with the name Izrail in front of him.

 

 

He got it all wrong together.

He suddenly knew it.

 

The beast back at Fortuna didn't want him to deliver the message to Dante – it spoke about Vergil; the message was supposed for Vergil. He remembered what he had heard about Dante's history, of what his Holiness had preached so many times but he'd never paid too much attention; how Sparda had killed Mundus and how the demon came back to live and was killed by the offspring of the rebel Sparda. Dante was the brother who had killed the demon – or at least thought so and Vergil...

 

 

“Huh.” Izrail tilted his head to his right as he didn't care. He lifted his hand, brushing gently over his hair until one single finger touched Nero at his temple. “You think you could let Vergil know that I'm waiting when he wakes up?”

 

Nero gulped. “Fuck. You.” He didn't look at him as his gaze found a streetlight in the far distance.

 

He smiled. “Oh, you know with Vergil it was always the other way around.”

 

Nero finally found the strength to pull himself up, stumbling away from him. He saw the snowflakes hanging in mid air around them, hoovering at their places – it didn't stop snowing but instead it seemed as somebody had stopped time itself.

 

“What are you?”, he whispered, raising one eyebrow. Izrail tilted his head and for a second Nero thought he looked sad, but the moment vanished immediately.

 

He smiled, but it was empty. “I'm not your enemy, boy.”

 

He turned around, ready to walk away from him, but Nero reached for his shoulder, his fingertips only brushing the black leather of his coat.

 

“That it?”, Nero almost asked angry. “You came all this way to get to Vergil and now you just leave? It doesn't make any sense! At least end what you had begun! Fight me!”

 

He didn't answer.

 

“You'll try to kill me when we meet again, won't you?”, Nero tried it again.

 

 

He stopped within his tracks. He wouldn't turn.

 

“Such anger.” He shook his head. “Yes, I would kill you. It would be the least I could do for you, but his dark Lord has not such plans with you. You are no match for me, boy. I could overpower you in no time and I would if it would be the right time, but it's not.” Izrail looked over his shoulder, a glimpse of green starred at him. “I could take you back with me and bring you to his dark Lord. He would torture you for days, weeks, even years. You're human side is strong and as a human, you couldn't stand such treatment. You would lose your mind, lose yourself within it.”

 

 

Nero thought he could hear him smile.

 

“I actually feel a little sorry for you – well, it just proves what a jerk Vergil can be to drag just a boy into this.” He turned his head to look at him, his visible eye starring at him and his face looked like a mask made out of ice. “In the end Mundus is the one who pulls all the strings.” Izrail paused. “Huh... I can see why he'd picked you. He must have known that you're a fighter.”

 

 

 

He turned around and walked away, his boots leaving a trail on the fresh fallen snow.

 

“Wait! What do you mean?” But he didn't hear and Nero wasn't desperate enough to run after him.

 

 

 

As he turned around a building, a light breeze caught one of Nero's blonde strains, whirling them around and snow started to fall again. He couldn't feel the pressure of his power any longer – he was gone.

 

 

He starred at the palm of his hand, watching snowflakes melting within the warmth.

 

 

 

He wondered if he would live to see spring again.

 

 

 

 

 

xxx

 

 

 

He woke up by the smell of fresh coffee. As he lifted his body from the red leather couch he reached for a white shirt that he had thrown carelessly on the ground the evening before, pulling it over his head quickly, followed by his pants. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as he walked into the kitchen and was greeted with a rather disturbing sight.

 

A man was sitting at the small kitchen table, holding a cup of hot steaming coffee in one of his hands, wearing nothing but a black boxer, the ankle of his right leg resting on the knee of his left one, looking up at Nero while wearing a bride smile. “Morning”, he greeted him and his dark and husky voice washed over his body. He reached for the pot of coffee behind him. “Want some?”

 

Nero just starred at him, blinking for a few times as he asked himself if he was still asleep. He looked at the handsome features of his face. His black hair was just as long as his and his bangs fell into blue eyes. His body was lean and firm in just the right places. His gaze persisted a second too long on his well formed abs before his eyes traced the line of his bicep before they stopped at his perfectly formed lips.

 

The man cleared his throat, taking Nero back into reality. He blinked and starred back at the coffee. “Uhm, yeah....”, he said slowly, taking the pot out of his hands and grabbed another cup to pour the brown liquid in it, before bringing it up to his lips. It actually tasted wonderful.

 

He leaned against the kitchen counter, putting the cup next to him before crossing his arms in front of his chest, suddenly realizing that his demonic arm was in full sight and the man didn't even flinch, didn't even stare at it. “Sooo....”, he started and stretched the word in an uncomfortable manner.

 

A noise from the stairs outside the kitchen caught both their attention and four pair of eyes found Dante entering, his hair still messy from the past night, wearing only an old pair of black jeans that hung too low on his hips, unbuttoned and unzipped, revealing a fine line of pale hair. They both watched as he headed for the fridge, opening the door. They heard him searching for something, before he shut the door with a budge of his hip. He hold a slice of pizza in his right hand, ready to take a bite as he finally noticed the two man in the kitchen.

 

The stranger stood up, walking over to Dante and took the slice of pizza, putting it aside, before he grabbed the hunters neck and claimed is lips in a heated kiss. His left hand traveled over Dante's chest all the way down to his open pants and Nero almost thought the hand would disappear withhin Dante's pant, but instead his fingers found the buttons and closed it.

 

“Fuck”, Nero breathed, almost speechless as he watched how the stranger pulled away, leaving a thin string of saliva between them. One of his hands found the hunters ass, squeezing it firmly.

 

“Uhm, do you mind?” he asked both of them as Dante took a hold of the man's hips with both of his hands, gliding them up over his well muscled back.

 

The man pulled away completely from Dante, looking back at Nero. “Why didn't you tell me about him?” He eyed the boy as he talked to Dante. “We could have had fun with him.”

 

But Dante shook his head. “Don't even think about it.”

 

 

Nero starred at him with an open mouth, before he rushed forward and grabbed Dante by his shoulders, dragging him with him back to the office.

 

“Whoa, what's the matter with you!”, Dante protested as Nero finally stopped.

 

“So this it what you've been doing last night? I can't believe you!”

 

The older one smirked. “What, jealous?”

 

Nero threw his hands in the air. “What? Hell no!” His voice cracked. “Is this really happening? You're fucking the next best guy while I'm sitting here thinking about how you might try to kill me?” He starred at him. “What's the matter with you?”, he asked him quietly.

 

“If I really wanted to kill you, you would be already dead.” He didn't look away, but instead took one step closer, pushing Nero back against the next wall. He shook his head. “No, kid, I'm not going to kill you. There's no need to worry.”

 

“And what about him?” He nodded to the kitchen.

 

Dante smiled. “Well, I usually don't share...”

 

“Asshole! You know exactly what I mean.”

 

“Don't worry. He's just a One-Night-Stand – I'm surprised he's still here though. Disappoints me a little, to be honest.” He stretched his back and Nero calmed down.

 

“Something happened last night while you were gone fucking around, Dante.” Nero's voice was a low whisper.

 

“You found your first pubic hair?”

 

 

Nero ignored the insult and swallowed a reply as he remembered the last events. “You know someone by the name Izrail?”

 

“Like the angel?”

 

“What?”

 

Dante barked a short laugh. “Just thought it could have something to do with the angel.”

 

Nero just blinked at him, confused. “Uhm, come again?”

 

Dante's laugh died and he looked shocked at Nero. In a theatrical gesture he reached with one hand for his chest. “Oh, don't tell me you never heard of him? Weren't you raised in a city religious as  _hell_?”

 

Nero rose both eyebrows. Did Dante realize how some of his sentence never made any sense?

 

“Should I?”, he asked, erasing quickly the thought.

 

“He's also known as Azrael. Izrail is just another name for him.”

 

“He didn't look like an angel.”, Nero murmured as heat rose up to his cheeks.

 

Dante took a seat on his coach, putting his bare feet on the table. He spread his arms over the backrest and threw his head back. “What did he want?”

 

“Well, he just wanted to talk to Vergil, I, uhm, guess.” He watched how Dante closed his eyes so he continued. “He realized that I'm not him, but it seems that he's working for another guy. But Dante, he was the demon Hazel told us about. It was never the old man at the mansion.”

 

Both of Dante's eyebrows rose. “Really? Why do these things keep happening when I'm not around?”, he asked him, not caring to open his eyes.

 

“Yeah...” Nero scratched the back of his head, not sure how he should continue. After all he messed up – bad. It wasn't an easy task for him. “You know that message I should deliver to you?”

 

“Oh, about all the crap of Vergil not able to kill someone?”

 

Nero felt his left eye twitch. “Yes , something about that. It... it wasn't for you.”

 

Dante's eyes popped open. “How do you mean?”

 

“It was for Vergil, Dante. And it was Mundus. That guy, Izrail, he's one of Mundus servants.”

 

 

“When you thought your brother could kill me, you were just as foolish as he was.”, Dante repeated the words. “It makes sense. I killed Mundus years ago.” It seemed as if Dante were lost within his own memories as his gaze became empty. “So now he's after Vergil, mh?” He pulled himself away from the grip of the past. He looked at Nero. “And he just visited you? What did he want? Talk with Vergil about good old times?”

 

 

“I think he was disappointed that Vergil hasn't yet take control over me. I kind of think that he needs Vergil fully awake.” The young hunter frowned. “I'd like to see a connection between Mundus and the one who want's Yamato but I can't think of any.”

 

“So he doesn't want the sword, huh?” Nero nodded.

 

“And never wanted it. Mundu's after Vergil, not Yamato.”

 

He saw how Dante bit one of his lips as he seemed to be buried in deep thoughts. “You know what the question is now, Nero. Hazel told us he would be at the old mansion and if that Izrail guy is really the one demon she was talking about than I wonder why he didn't show himself back there.”

 

“Don't you forget something? What about the one who wants to claim Yamato?”

 

Dante gave him a small smile. “Easy there. You can't fight the whole world, kid.”

 

With a load crack the front door of Devil May Cry swung open and with a blow of snow an elegant pair of slim legs entered the office followed by the upper body of a younf woman. Nero's eyes caught dark short hair covered under a thick layer of snow as she entered.

 

 

Dante rolled his eyes at her. “Oh come on now, do you have to make an entrance like that Lady?”

 

She rested on of her hands on her slim hip before she took of her coat that revealed her hardly clothed body. She wore a very short pants and black tights that clung to her legs like second skin. The high leather boots almost reached her knees and the white tank top stood in hard contrast to all the black. Dark red gauntlets covered her arms and reached over her hands. A heavy loaded weapon belt hung on her hips, looking as it was almost to big for her to wear. She gave both of them a bright smile.

 

“You would like that, wouldn't you Dante? I have a thing for a dramatic entrance just like you.” She turned to face Nero. “Now you would be Nero. So the rumors  _are_ true after all.”

 

He heard how Dante took a deep breath. “Come on, spill it woman. Why are you hear?”

 

Before she could answer, a muffled cough caught their attention. Three heads turned around to look at the door to the kitchen.

 

_Oh, right..._

 

Nero had almost forgot about Dante's One-Night-Stand. He looked obviously uncomfortable and Nero was wondering if it was because of the Lady – he certainly wasn't that shy just a few minutes ago.

 

He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could the woman drew one of her weapons and aimed for his head.

 

“Fuck, Dante!”, she cursed under her breath and Nero immediately took one step back, not sure about of what was happening. “What the hell is  _he_ doing here?”

 

She was about to pull the trigger, but Dante took one step forward, reaching with his right hand for her arm, pointing the gun away from the man until the woman let her arm drop. “”No need to worry, Lady. He won't hurt you, right?” Dante grinned at the man. “Unless you want him to...”

 

“Shut it!”, the woman hissed at Dante, still not letting the man out of her gaze. “You should know better, I suppose. Did you sleep with him? Ah, Dante, no!” She grimaced as the picture formed in her head.

 

Before anyone could say more, Nero stepped forward, looking at all three of them.

 

“What the fuck is going on here?”, he asked them quietly.

 

Dante smiled at him and it seemed that the feature of the Lady's face softened as well. The stranger hid his smile behind his right hand as he leaned against the doorframe.

 

“Park your ass on the couch kid, this is gonna be one hell of a story.”


	9. Closer

_One hell of a story..._

 

 

Yes, that was just the perfect start to tell Nero the latest news – and maybe they would figure out a connection between that Izrail guy and his story; at least Dante hoped so.

 

He took Nero by his shoulders and guided him backwards to the couch until the back of his knees hit the red leather and he slowly pushed the young man down. Nero’s gaze traveled between Dante, Lady and Dante’s current One-Night-Stand; clearly he wasn't sure what to think about this.

 

“I can't believe you let him in your home, Dante. You even slept with him. Can you be any more reckless?” She asked as she walked around the small table in front of the red leather coach before she sat down on one of the arm rests. She crossed her legs and folded her arms in front of her chest; her eyes glaring harshly at Dante.

 

Even as Dante was being chastised by the aggravated woman he saw how Nero watched his One-Night-Stand moving until he stood next to him, putting one arm around his shoulders, smiling, “Come on now Lady, can't you just forget what happened? I already told you I’m sorry.”

 

His hand slid down until it reached Dante's butt.

 

“My hand's still twitching, C. Just be careful, I might use my gun on your head,” Dante joked.

 

It was Nero’s turn to force his way into the conversation as his anger burst , “Shut up! All of you!”

 

All eyes turned to Nero who looked like as if he was ready to explode, “Who the fuck is the lady Dante and what about this dude?”

 

The grin on older man's face grew wider, “Nero, meet Lady.”

 

Nero's head turned around until his eyes found the smiling face of Lady; she winked at him.

 

“And this,” forcing the other man’s hand away from his ass, “is C.”

 

The man next to him blew one strain of black hair out of his face, showing his green eyes. He gave Nero one of his best smiles – probably the reason why Dante ended in bed with him.

 

“C? What kind of name is that? I mean, a letter?” Nero shook his head.

 

C. walked around the table until he could sit next to Nero – too close for Dante's liking – and put his arm around the youth’s shoulders.

 

“It stands for Corvus,” he grinned as Nero grabbed his arm to shove it away, sliding further down the sofa to put distance between them. He was still wearing nothing but his boxers and Dante liked the way he and Nero looked together; the youth with his almost white blonde hair and C. with his dark black hair. If this was one of his dreams the two of them would get it on until he joined them – but it wasn't one of his dreams and Nero was not the type of guy who would have sex with other men, let alone women. He was sure the kid was still a virgin and when he and Nero were at  _Love Planet,_ he knew that it was the first time for Nero to see a pair of boobs even though the kid seemed to be more interested with the man.

 

Dante shook his head.

 

“Care to explain all of this Dante?” Nero asked him and he sounded as if he was pissed – he couldn't blame him.

 

Dante grinned at him, “Then shut the fuck up and let me start.”

 

 

_xxx_

 

 

_"How will you be sure that I'm not going to die if you take Yamato_ _?_ _"_

  
  


It was already dark outside and Dante was sitting on his chair, his feet rested on top of his wooden desk and he opened his eyes to look at Nero. The kid was staring at him and for a moment he thought he would lose himself in those blue eyes.

  
  


"He's sharing his memories with you now, that is a good and a bad thing,” he told the boy and hated him at the same instance for bringing the topic up.

  
  


As he realized that Nero didn't understand he took a deep sigh, "It means that his soul is by far more connected to yours than maybe the old man thought it was."

  
  


"Have you ever thought that it would slow the process of Vergil taking control over me, when I don't have Yamato with me? Maybe it would actually stop it."

  
  


Nero’s suggestion angered Dante, "No. It can't be  _just_  the sword. The sword is just a thing, a piece of steel and wood. It doesn't breathe, it doesn't think. To make things short: it's not alive. But you are. You're human with a demonic arm. Vergil's soul has already left the sword to become once with yours."

  
  


"But then it wouldn't be a problem to remove it now would it?" Nero retorted.

  
  


He brought his feet down to the ground and sighed again, "Maybe not. But if it wouldn't you know what that means don't you? It means that it doesn't matter anymore to remove or not remove the sword. His soul's already connected with yours."

  
  


Nero looked at him as he had hit him. It was a cruel thing to say, he knew that but the kid had to learn the truth.

  
  


  
  


Troubled by Dante’s brutal words, Nero questioned him, "How can you be so sure? How do you know all of this?"

  
  


He wasn't sure about it and he didn't know a thing about everything that Vergil had done to bring them in such a mess. He was just assuming things and Nero kept on asking him things he didn't know the answer to. What was he supposed to say? The truth of course.

  
  


"I don't." He looked up to meet Nero's blue eyes. The kid didn't look like as if he would continue to ask him. What was there more to say anyway? He pulled himself up and stretched his body. He didn't have any answers for Nero or for him and at some point he asked himself why he should even care – of course he knew why he should care, because despite the fact he was trying to convince himself that Nero didn't matter to him he did. When the kid showed up at his stairs he kinda felt... happy? No, that was too much. Glad? That sounded better to him. It still didn't feel right but 'glad' came close to what he felt. He was never a person who liked to show feelings ever since his brother left.

  
  


“He _killed your mother…”_

  
  


Nero's words returned to him in his memory, but it was the truth. He and Vergil were blended by Mundus at that time and he was sure that Mundus cut off his strings that connected him with the demon lord on purpose so he could watch how his mother died by his brothers hands – but he hadn’t succeeded, he didn't put a wedge between the twins. Dante never hated Vergil for what he did, but he knew that hate consumed his older brother ever since that day. He was sure that this fire still burnt within his brother as the events of Temen-Ni-Gru took place – after all, Vergil held on to the thought that more power could have stopped Mundus when they were kids, and sometimes he thought Vergil just did all of this to fight Mundus; to take revenge for their mother.  _Sometimes_. He shook his head to get rid of the unwanted memories. He would not take that road tonight.

He headed for the stairs before he looked at the kid, “I need to get out. Do you want to join me at  _Love Planet_?”

The young man shook his head and his face turned into an angry mask. A low “no” got through his ears. His saw how Nero's body hit the red leather coach as he threw himself at it. He crossed his arms behind his head and starred at the ceiling.

Dante continued to take the stairs up to his room. He searched through his chaotic wardrobe for something to wear tonight.

He decided on a dark wine red turtleneck sweater combined with a sleeveless black leather vest followed by a pair of pants in the same dark red as the sweater and high black boots. He grabbed his coat, put its neck up and looked at himself in the mirror; liking the picture he saw. He snatched some crumbled dollar notes and stuffed them in his pocket before he turned around to head for the front door.

  
  


  
  


xxx

  
  


**Chapter 8: Closer**

Dante shook the glass with the brown golden liquid in it lightly. The whiskey tasted bitter that evening and he started to feel depressed. At first he had thought he would give the  _Love Planet_ another visit since the club was near at his home, but he decided to do otherwise and just strolled through the city until he found a place he hadn't visited in a long time. It was a small independent musician bar, where people could come and show off their talent. There were singers, guitarists, rock bands, comedians and more.

 

As he sat down on one of the barstools a slow piano song started to play and the stage got dark. He watched how the spotlight was pointed at the middle of the stage and he saw a dark haired woman sitting at a piano, wearing casual jeans and a white sweater. Slowly, she started to move her body to the music she was playing, before she opened her mouth and the first tunes of her smoky voice got through his ear. He listened to the lyrics and closed his eyes for just a moment.

 

_We all do what we can. So we just do one more thing._

 

He turned around and he noticed Corvus only seconds later; he was sitting at the other side of the room in a corner booth, staring at him. His left side of the face was covered under a curtain of long black hair and he hold a glass of whiskey firmly in one of his gloved hands.

 

_We won't have a thing. So we got nothing to lose._

 

Dante gave him a small nod, not in the mood to throw himself into a new flirt. He ordered himself a beer and as soon as he got the bottle, he brought it up to his lips and let the cool liquid pass his lips running down his throat, already forgetting about the man looking at him.

 

_We can all be free._

 

He could hear the rustle of fabric through the low song and as he turned to his right, a grin begun to spread over his face.

 

“Never thought you would be that suicidal,” Dante told him, taking another sip of his beer as he didn't care to look at him.

 

A low chuckle answered him, “What can I say, Dante? I like to live dangerous.”

 

Out of the corner of his eyes, Dante saw taking him the stool next to him.

 

_Maybe not with words._

 

 

C. ordered a beer as well and the bartender brought it quickly to him. He took a sip and another one, not saying a word. Dante kept waiting, staring at his own face as he looked straight ahead at the mirror that was covering the whole wall behind the bar. He glanced over his right shoulder, eyeing the man at the booth.

 

“Now, how long do I have until you draw that fancy sword of yours... which I can't seem to find at all,” Amusement could be heard in his voice.

 

He finally turned to his left, looking straight at him, “It's not here. Now tell me what you want before I forget myself and strangle you with my bare hands…” His voice was low and friendly and a sly smile appeared on his face, but Dante meant every word he just said.

 

Corvus took another sip of his beer and swallowed the bitter liquid. He tucked one black strain of hair behind his right ear, “Mh, so you still hate me, I guess. Does it help you to know that it wasn't my fault?”

 

The answer came quickly to his mind. “No.”

 

 

_Maybe not with a look._

 

 

Corvus pleaded, “Look man, I'm  _sorry_. I really am. Can't we just forget about the past?”

 

Dante chuckled, not wanting himself to get too deep into the conversation he got straight to the point, “Tell me, Corvus. What  _did_ happen to you after I killed that master of yours? Found yourself a new one that could fuck and torture you the way he pleases? Just like the old one?”

 

He could see how a shiver run through Corvus’ body and his face turned into a pained grimace as the memories flooded back to him. He took a big sip from his beer and some of the liquid trickled down his chin as he sat it back. He brushed it away with one hand and said, “You say it like I had a choice. I never chose to work for him. But I chose to betray him by helping you.”

 

“You call that help? You almost killed us,” Dante snapped.

 

Corvus grew defensive over the accusation, “It was necessary to save you!”

 

Dante could hear the anger in his voice. This conversation was beginning to bore him and he didn't want to cover his hands with the blood of a fool. He wanted to get up, but a hand was quickly placed over his right arm. He looked at the other man; his black hair was falling into his eyes, covering them slightly. He wore silver rings on all of his fingers on his right hand and a black leather bracelet covered his left wrist. His gaze traveled over his bare arm until he reached his face, ignoring the white wife beater that covered his muscular torso.

 

“I never wanted to harm you,” He looked Dante straight into the eye, not daring to look away. His voice was almost a whisper and the music almost covered it, but Dante heard every word.

 

_But with your minds._

 

 

The song ended and the crowd cheered and applauded as the woman slowly got off the stage.

 

“You want my forgiveness, don't you? That's why you're here? After all those years?” He scoffed, “What makes you think I'm that kind of guy?”

 

Corvus looked away, “I don't. I can only hope.”

 

Dante burst into a full laugh, “You really changed, man! You're not the same guy I met five years ago! What happened?”

 

He turned his gaze back to Dante, “You freed me.” He pulled on Dante's arm so he would sit again. Corvus voice changed to a low whisper as he continued on, “You think I did all of this because I wanted to? You're sick!” He looked at Dante with complete disgust.

 

Dante answered him with a grin, “You could have had it with me.”

 

Both of Corvus’ eyebrows rose, “What? The one minute you wanna kick my ass and the next minute you wanna fuck me in the ass? You really  _are_ sick, Dante!”

 

Dante turned around again, but then he stopped as an idea hit him, “You still have your connections, Corvus?”

 

“Connections. That’s a nice way to put it. Yes, Dante, I still suck dicks for a living. But for you I'd do it for free, you know?”

 

Dante turned his back to him, ignoring his offer as he got up again, “Did you hear something I might like lately?”

 

If the answer wouldn't please him, he was ready to take off.

 

He could feel how the other man moved behind him, putting his arms around his lower body, resting his chin on his shoulder, “Why do you think I came to you the minute I saw you in here?”

 

Dante didn't move, “You tell me.”

 

One of Corvus' hands moved around his waist to the front of his stomach and went further down until it rested on Dante's crotch, “For old time’s sake Dante. Let me show you how sorry I really am and I tell you why I'm here.”

 

He suddenly turned around, grabbing Corvus by his throat, pulling him away from the bar, and pushed through the crowd until he reached the dark and empty floor that would lead to the backdoor. He forced the other man against the wall; eyes glistering with anger.

 

“Why are you  _really_  here, huh Corvus? For old time’s sake? How did you even know I would be here?” He squeezed his hand tighter around the other man’s throat, making it hard for him to breathe. Corvus smiled at Dante despite the situation, which made his attacker even more enraged. The next act got on to the stage and the silence was replaced with a loaded rock song, its base pulsing through their bodies.

 

“I didn't,” he managed to say, “I didn't know. Honestly.” He choked on his words, but didn't show any attempt to fight back. “I come here every Tuesday. It was mere luck that I ran into you.”

 

Dante searched his eyes to find the lie that laid beneath them, but couldn't find it. “Luck, eh? Luck doesn't exist.” He slowly let go of his throat, but still pressed his body into his so he was still trapped.

 

“Where are your buddies?” He questioned sternly.

 

Corvus looked at him and blinked, “Buddies?”

 

“You're a demon. I heard they are leaving the town. Now, why are you still here, mh?” His hand traveled over his chest, until he reached the belt to his black jeans and hooked his fingers with it. He could see how his breathing got heavier.

 

“And you're half of a demon.” He turned his head to the side and his gaze got empty. “I told you I left that part of my life behind me.”

 

He turned back to Dante.

 

“Doesn't mean you don't hear things,” was Dante's reply and he slowly opened Corvus’ belt while his other hand rested on his hip.

 

“My pimp is human, Dante. I don't have business with those clients anymore.” He let out a soft moan, as Dante unzipped his pants and reached into it to press his hand flat against his erect cock.

 

“No shit,” He wrapped his fingers around it and slowly started to pump. He saw how the other man threw his head against the wall behind him. “For a demon you know surprisingly less. Can't think of anything I might wanna know?”

 

“Fuck! If I would knew what the hell you're talking about, I might give you an answer,” Corvus groaned.

 

“Then tell me who wants to kill me.”

 

A smile appeared over the cornered man’s face as his eyes closed in lust, “Kill you? You mean like everyone?”

 

Dante’s grip on his prisoner’s member got tight and he saw how the other man tried to hide a yelp.

 

The intensity was too much for Corvus, his answer bursting out of his mouth like water, “Okay, so there maybe was something odd that happened lately. About a week ago.”

 

Dante's hold loosened a bit.

 

“Keep going,” he encouraged him to talk more. He slowly started to pump again; he could feel the pre-cum already forming on the tip of Corvus’ cock.

 

“There was that dude. Paid me really well....”, he stopped to let a moan escape his lips, “He just wanted to talk. I didn't even unzip my pants let alone his.”

 

“Talk? What about?” Dante maintained a steady rhythm.

 

“Mmmh... nothing special. Said he had some business in town. It was nothing – ah – that could interest you. It was actually kinda nice. He was charming, asked me about my life, ugh, what I like to do, where I go for fun. Said he needed to find a place to relax himself after work...” He panted heavily.

 

Dante stopped and withdrew his hand, “So I see, you really are worthless to me.”

 

He turned around and headed for the back door.

 

Corvus looked at him confused and frustrated, “What?”

 

He could hear Corvus’ high pitched voice scream in disbelief, “You got me all turned on for nothing?”

 

“Well, that depends on you. If you tell me something I like then I might continue. But you said it for yourself – you don't have business with demons anymore.”

 

His hand reached the doorknob. Only a second later he found another hand on his shoulder, “Doesn't mean we couldn't have fun tonight, Dante.”

 

He shook the hand off, “You disgust me. You're a traitor who would sell out everyone as long as there is something in it for you.” He walked through the door out into the cold night. Corvus followed him; getting really annoyed. Maybe he had gone too far and the man was already addicted to his touch.

 

“Is this how you see me?”

 

Dante didn't turn around as he stared at the building ahead of him, “Am I wrong?”

 

“Yes,” His whispered answer was barely to hear.

 

“Then prove it,” Dante said.

 

“Why can't you just trust me? You really think I would take you to my place, fuck you and then sell you out?”

 

A grin appeared on Dante's face, “No, I don't think that. For starters, it would be me who'd do the fucking. And yes, I would might think you would throw me at my enemies the second my cock leaves your ass.”

 

He could feel Corvus standing behind him, his body almost touching his, “I didn't betray you, Dante.”

 

His words wouldn’t convince Dante of anything, “Go back, Corvus. I'm gonna head for another club where I don't have to see your face.”

 

He started to walk and lifted his right hand to salute him over his shoulder. This time the man didn't try to follow him and he was glad for it. It would only piss him off more. As he heard the door close he was sure Corvus went back into the club. Dante started to stroll through the city and as it started to snow, he thought it would be time for one last stop before he would return to Devil May Cry. The evening didn't turn out as he wanted it to be. After all his primary goal was it to get his head free of all this mind fucking stuff he went through the last couple of days, but on the other hand he had hopped for some more information. After all he was a demon hunter and usually filthy creatures didn't hide in a field of flowers but rather in the disgusting underworld of sex, drugs and rock'n'roll. He rolled his eyes at that thought. What a cliché - but it was true for most of the times.

 

He turned into another bar not far away from the club he just had been, ordering another beer followed by a whiskey before he decided that the night was over.

 

As he walked back to Devil May Cry the streets were empty. It was early in the morning, almost 4 am and the fresh fallen snow swallowed every noise; but he could still feel his presence, before he turned into the street at which end he would find his home.

 

He stopped, “Can't find your home, boy?”

 

“He was there tonight,” Corvus said.

 

Dante didn't bother to turn around, “Who?”

 

“The one I told you about.”

 

“And?”

 

“Saw me with you. Kinda seemed interested in you,” Corvus replied with a coy tone.

 

The answer made Dante curious enough that he finally turned to face him, “In what way?”

 

“Wanted to know who you are, if I was your lover,” He scoffed at the thought, “Can you believe that?”

 

Dante growled, “You’re starting to really piss me off, Corvus. There is nothing you have that would be useful to me. Can't you just leave me alone like all those years before?”

 

“But I want to help you. At least let me try to make up for what I did to you and Lady.”

 

Dante thought over the words he'd just heard. His instinct told him to get as far away from Corvus as possible. But if there was only the slightest chance that he could actually help him... After all this was all about Vergil and Corvus was one of the very few people who had known his brother. He needed to dig in his brother's past, right? So why not just start with one of his lovers?

 

“You can try. But don't think I wouldn't cut your throat the minute you start to act funny.”

 

 

xxx

 

 

He pulled off his leather coat and threw it on to the bed, before he sat himself on to it to get rid of his boots. Out of the corner of his eyes he watched Corvus standing uncomfortable in the doorframe.

 

“That kid sleeping downstairs... is that your new lover?” he asked him quietly, before he entered the room and closed the door behind them.

 

Dante shook his head, “He is my new nightmare. You don't need to know about him.”

 

He heard Corvus move around the bed before he stopped in front of him. He wore an old pair of jeans that once were black but the color mostly had faded. He shoved down the dark green jacket he wore and knelt down in front of Dante. He looked him straight in the eyes as his hands crawled over his legs up to his crotch. The devil hunter looked at him amused before he leaned back and used his hands to hold his balance.

 

Corvus took this as a permission to continue and opened the belt he wore before he unzipped his pants.

 

Before he could go further, Dante spoke again, “Tell me about my brother.”

 

Corvus stopped and sat back on his heels. He looked at him as he had just slapped him across the face. “What?” he asked him, dumbfounded, “You're thinking about your brother while I do this to you?”

 

“Well I think it's just too much of a coincidence that I run into you after he came back and haunting me,” he told him. Corvus was about to stand up but Dante quickly grabbed his hands to hold him in place, “Didn't you share his bed with him?”

 

The other man looked away, suddenly shy. “That was a long time ago,” was his quiet reply.

 

“But not too long for you to forget,” Dante quipped; running one of his hands through his hair, along his pierced ear. He wore one of those ridiculous tunnel earrings, but not yet big enough to look awkward. He could watch how goosebumps spread over his neck, “As I recall, it was only one year before I killed that bastard.”

 

“You think he told me what he had planned back then? Hell no. He didn't talk much. As you already know,” Corvus sneered.

 

He crawled back forwards so he was on eye level with Dante. He kept on leaning forwards until their lips would almost touch, “I always wondered how you and him could be twins. You look so alike but you are nothing like him.”

 

“I'm better,” Dante grinned, “I'm still alive.” The cockiness was back in his voice.

 

Corvus reached forward and put one of his hands into his pants. “Hell you are,” he grinned and freed his erect member. He saw trickles of pre-cum glistening on the head. He stuck out his tongue and bowed his head, but before he could reach his goal, Dante grabbed him roughly by his hair and pulled his head up to his.

 

“What do you know?” he hissed and he knew his grip caused pain as he tucked harder. Corvus didn't show any of the pain that was inflicted on him – Dante knew he was used to worse.

 

“Nothing.”

 

Dante glared at him, “Bullshit. You're not even a little bit surprised of him haunting me?”

 

Corvus smiled, “I don't believe in ghosts, Dante.”

 

He roughly brushed his lips over that cocky grin, but not long enough for Corvus to respond to the kiss that left a wet trail on his lips.

 

Dante’s voice was slightly threatening as he said, “You better. I wanna know who he'd piss enough off to fuck up my life even after his death.”

 

The smile vanished, “I never thought you would be that deep in shit, Dante. What did Vergil do?”

 

He brought his lips to Corvus’ ear, almost touching the soft flesh, as he whispered, “How did my brother manage to cheat death, huh?”

 

The other man’s eyes got big with the realization, “You really mean --- he's still alive? How?”

 

“That's what I ask you.”

 

“I don't know!” Corvus shouted.

 

He stared at him, slowly releasing his hair and sat back. It was silent for a long moment; the only thing that could be heard was Corvus’ harsh breathing.

 

After minutes passed, he positioned himself back between Dante's legs, leaning down until he could lick the first drops of pre-cum away as his eyes darkened with lust. He waited for any sign of Dante and as he didn't show him any reaction, he took his cock into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the tender flesh. He could hear a low groan above his head and looked up. He watched how Dante had tilted his head slightly backwards, his eyes half shut.

 

Before he could lose himself in that bliss, he laid one hand on the other one's head, stopping him within his movements, “I need you to take me back to the places where you and him have been.”

 

A low chuckle escaped Corvus’ lips, sending shivers through Dante's body as the vibration got in touch with his cock. He moved his lips to speak, “As long as it helps you... care to tell me what you're looking for?”

 

Dante glared at him, shoving his head back down, “Don't be ridiculous.”

 

 

xxx

 

“Slut,” Lady scoffed.

 

Dante just smiled at her. “Never.”, he told her, before he turned to Corvus, “Why are you even still here? I thought I told you to meet with me out of town.”

 

Corvus faced him, “What, let me guess… You didn't want your friends to see me, is that right? Well, I hate going out without a breakfast.”

 

“Moron!” Dante barked harshly at him, “Whoever is after me could already be on your tracks. I don't need them to see me with you in broad daylight, idiot!”

 

“Yeah, but letting them see him coming out of your place doesn't tell them much,” Lady laughed; forcing Dante to give her an angry stare.

 

Corvus’ shoulders dropped.

 

“Wait, Dante – do you trust this guy?” Nero asked him.

 

“Not one bit.”

 

Nero asked him further, “Then hell, why involve him in all of this?”

 

“Trust me Nero, he doesn't know enough.”

 

“Wish I would though,” Corvus whined.

 

“Now then,” Dante turned around to face Lady, “let's continue. Why are you here?” he asked in a bitter sweet tone; giving his most charming smile.

 

The young woman still had her hand right next to the gun strapped to her thigh. She never took her eyes off Corvus as she spoke, “A bird came and sung to me, Dante. I heard about you having a new partner. Well, looking at Pretty Boy here, it seems about right. I thought you didn't want any more partners after Trish?”

 

“Well, sometimes life isn't about choices,” Dante responded.

 

“Who's Trish?” Nero's voice filled the room who had sunk deep into the red leather as Dante told his story.

 

Dante opened his mouth for a reply, but Lady was faster as she turned around. Her eyes pierced into Nero's, “Trish is a complicated topic. It's nasty, you don't really want to hear about it.” She rolled her eyes at Dante, “By the way, where is she? Isn’t she the first one to crawl around your place when there's something going on including you getting your ass kicked?”

 

“She left for a mission a couple of days ago,” Dante murmured.

 

“And here you are. Are you not short on money or why didn't she pull your ass with her?”

 

“Shut up Lady,” He slowly stretched his body and looked at all of them from one to the other, “This is how it goes. Corvus is one of the very few people my brother was in touch with during the time he was alive.” A flash of pain showed on Dante's face, but vanished quickly, “Since we don't have any leads I suppose the best way to solve this mess would be to return to the places he had been. Corvus?”

 

The man stood up from his seat, acting nervous, “I guess that would be Hill Creek Water. A small town a couple of hours away from here. We stayed there for a couple of weeks before he came back to this rotten city.”

 

“You mean before he left you,” Dante grinned, “I think I would love to see that place.”

 

“Hill Creek Water?” Nero's voice was soft as he looked underneath from his bangs up to Dante, “That's only a two hour drive away from Fortuna.”

 

“Awwww...” Dante's grin grew bigger and he ruffled the youth hair, “And there's our first connection. Now, who still thinks it was a bad sign for me to run into Corvus?”

 

Lady jested him with, “Don't try to convince us that fucking solves problems, Dante.”

 

“Shut up Lady.”

 

The demon hunter watched as Nero slowly rose from his seat, “Okay... then let's go there. It's a long time ago since I last was there...”

 

“Now,” Dante grinned, “this should be fun.”


	10. The End Is The Beginning Is The End

“Don't.”

 

The word was only a whisper.

 

His hand was trembling furiously as he unlocked the safety on his gun and the blood,  _his_  blood, made the handle slippery. He didn't let go of the weapon as it touched the others temple. The smell of blood and burnt flesh hung heavily in the air and he could still hear the last cries and moans of the dying creatures around him. The hole in his hand hurt like hell and he could feel his pulse throbbing within it. It cost all his strength to stand upright, to hold his arm upwards, but he wouldn't let go.

 

“You fucking asshole...”, he murmured as he stared into those wide green eyes that were full of fear. The left side of the man's face was covered in blood from the blow he had caught earlier. The color of his face had gone and turned into an unhealthy grey and he could tell that he wasn't much longer able to hold himself up. A trembling went through his body and Dante watched as his knees slowly gave away and he went to the ground; his gun never left the others head.

 

Corvus was kneeling in front of him and all he had to do was to pull the trigger and he would blow his face away from this earth and still, he hesitated.

 

“It looks bad, I know.”, Corvus told him, coughing up blood. “I – I didn't...” His gaze went to his right, to stare at the lifeless body lying next to him. “I never wanted -”

 

“Shut up!” Dante's words echoed from the surrounding walls of the warehouse, his hand shaking with rage. He followed Corvus eyes and slowly took steps around the kneeling man to get in front of the body on the ground. He slowly knelt down as his eyes never left Corvus. He reached down with his left hand, searching for a pulse on the body. He slowly turned it around to look at her face and he swallowed the moan that threatened to escape his throat. The white shirt was drained in blood and he hoped, really hoped, it wasn't her blood but that of the demons. He sighed in relief as he saw how her upper body slowly rose and fall with small breaths, but with every breath she took, blood poured down her shirt from a wound deep inside her chest.

 

Lady was slowly bleeding out, he didn't need a medical degree to know that. If she wouldn't get any help, his friend was going to die and his fear of losing her might become true.

 

He could hear Corvus wince and his head snapped back to the man. He straightened his arm. “Don't. Fucking. Move.”, he told him in an icy tone.

 

“If you're going to kill me, just do it, but don't... I can't stand... .”

 

Dante went one step further, the barrel of his gun pressing against Corvus forehead. “But! Ju---just let me say, I didn't betray you.”, he stammered, his voice trembling in fear.

 

“Oh, you didn't?” Dante asked him, spreading his arms in defeat. “Oh you're right, what was I thinking? Now that you say it, it becomes very clear to me.” He turned again, pointing his gun back to his head. “You know, the only thing I'm wondering about right now is, why I didn't already pull the trigger and sent you back to hell. And now you come up with this  _shit_. Since you are such a good little slave shouldn't you follow your master?”

 

“Yes! Yes! You're right. I am a  _slave_! You just said it yourself. You think I would be able to act free as a slave?”

 

“Why am I still talking to you?” Dante's voice sounded bored.

 

“Because you know it's true!” Corvus went up to his knees, his hands searching for Dante and he pulled himself up on his clothes. His face was burrowed in the fabric of his coat. “I had no choice... Marcus, he...”

 

“Marcus is dead.”

 

“Yes, yes...”

 

“So are you.”

 

“No!” His head shot up and he starred into the icy blue eyes of Dante's. “You don't kill the innocent, Dante. I've known you too long. You would never do that.” His hands were trembling and still clutched deep within the fabric of his coat.

 

A low moan caught both their attention and they turned their heads to the small figure of the woman's body on the ground. Lady's eyes fluttered open. “Fuck...”, she breathed and her hands went up her torso to the wound which still bled.

 

For a second, Dante let his guard down as his eyes found those of Lady's. And Corvus used his chance. He shot up to stand on his feet and used one of his fists to connect with Dante's stomach. From the force of the impact, he let go of the weapon which fell to the ground. Corvus used his other fist and landed a blow on the other's chin that sent him stumbling backwards. Before Dante could recover himself, Corvus kicked after him. His foot connected with his stomach once again and the blow was forceful enough to sent Dante to the ground. His right hand searched for his weapon, but Corvus took quickly one step forward and smashed his foot down on his injured hand. A pained scream echoed through the warehouse and Dante quickly brought his hand back to his chest, his face a grimace in agony. Corvus didn't wait any longer. He kicked the weapon away so it would slitter over the ground a couple of feet away, before he turned and run as fast as he could.

 

 

His lungs burned from exhaustion, but he didn't stop and never looked back. He had almost reached the open doors that would lead him into freedom, as he heard a loud shot rung through the air. He stumbled, but still run further. Only two seconds later, he got slower - right after the pain hit him with full force. His left knee gave away and he almost hit the ground, but brought himself up again. He looked down at his leg. The shot went right through it. He glanced back over his shoulder and he watched as Lady slowly fall back to the ground, her hand still holding her smoking gun. But this wouldn't stop him. He crawled, half stumbled further to the doors – almost there. He dragged himself over the verge and with his last strength, he crawled into the bright light of the rising sun.

 

 

He heard another shot and for a second he thought he could feel the bullet cut through the air above his head. He didn't care, neither did he look back. He just went on, until he could reach his car, drag himself into the driver's seat and turned on the engine. As the warehouse got smaller and smaller within his rear-view mirror, he dared to take a deep sigh.

 

At last, he was free.

 

**Chapter 9: The End Is The Beginning Is The End**

 

“It's almost winter.”

 

He pushed his hands into the pockets of his trousers as he stood in front of the small wooden cabin to look over the valley in front of them. There was a mountain chain in the distance and the tops were already covered with snow though the line of trees underneath were still green. He took a deep breath of the cold air as he felt the other man's body lean into his.

 

“Maybe it'll snow tomorrow.”, he heard his voice whispering into his ear.

 

 

“Maybe”, he murmured, before he turned away and walked back to the front door. He picked up the Katana that leaned next to it. He withdraw it from its sheet before he took a seat at the small kitchen table with his back to the door.

 

“You do it again”, he heard his voice behind him – he glared at the man over his shoulder before he took the small cloth in front of him to clean the sword's blade.

 

“Doing what?”, he asked, his tone almost as cold as the weather outside as he continued to swipe the fabric over the cool steel.

 

“Shutting me out.”, was his reply and Vergil could tell that he was still standing in the door frame. He looked at Yamato and watched the reflection of his eyes in it. He heard the low rustle of fabric before he could hear Corvus taking the last steps that separated them.

 

“I don't know what you're talking about”, was his simple reply and he didn't bother to look up as Corvus stood next to him.

 

For a few seconds Vergil had the foolish thought that Corvus wouldn't push any further, but he wasn't surprised as he heard his voice again:

 

“Why did we come here?”, Corvus asked as he pulled one of the chairs to sit across from the half-demon. He rested his elbows on the table, his bracelets touching the smooth surface. One of his hands tried to reach for Vergil's, but the other one pulled away. “Why are you always acting like someone's hunting you?”

 

Vergil stopped cleaning the sword, his eyes shot up to stare at the man across him. He saw Corvus flinch and an icy smile crept over his face.

 

“Because there is.”

 

Corvus stared at his reply, the words hung heavily between them. Vergil waited and just watched him, the cloth still in his hand while the other was holding Yamato.

 

“Do you trust me?”, Corvus asked and his voice was merely a whisper.

 

Vergil rested the sword upon his lap. He stared at the cloth in his hand before his gaze found that of Corvus. Blonde hair fell into his blue eyes and he blinked.

 

“No.” He picked up Yamato and started to clean it once more.

 

“Then why did you bring me here?”

 

A smirk crossed Vergil's face but he reminded silent not bothering what the other one was thinking.

 

“For Fuck's sake!” Corvus stood up and kicked against his chair so it flew across the room into the next wall. His eyes flashed crimson in anger and Vergil felt his demonic aura rise. He slowly put his sword back into its sheet and laid it upon the table. His palms pressed to the smooth wooden surface as he rose from his chair. With his index finger he draw an invincible circle on the table, not looking up as Corvus gaze pierced into him.

 

“I can sense your frustration.”, he finally said, looking up to face the angry man.

 

“You call this frustration? Yeah, damn right. You hardly spoke to me the last three days, you never told my why we left town let alone what the purpose is that we're here!” His voice was full of anger.

 

“Then I suggest that you simply have to trust me – or leave.”

 

“You're speaking of trust yet you don't trust me... ” Corvus told him in a whisper, a hint of desperation within his voice.

 

“I don't trust anybody.”

 

“And yet here I am.”, Corvus told him, “Don't lie to yourself, Vergil.”

 

“Maybe you just think too highly of yourself.” His voice bored, his face a stoic mask. Corvus was about to punch him in the face.

 

“Marcus' gonna be pissed”, he said at last, ready to give up and to let Vergil win.

 

“Marcus is the last of my concerns, Corvus.” The cloth was picked up again as fingers brushed lazily over the sheet. “It's your choice. Stay or leave. But don't think that you have any value to me.”

 

The other man blinked, his face a mask of absolute confusion. He took a few steps and headed for the front door, before he stopped. He turned around, his gaze piercing into Vergil's back. The demon stood still, waiting for him to speak.

 

“Fuck you”, Corvus spit out, the color of his eyes flashing into a bright red before he started running with inhuman speed, ready to leash out. Before his fist could connect with the others head, Vergil simply took one step to the side, leaving the other one crushing into the table. Corvus recovered quickly and used his hands to push himself up, one of his legs trying to kick Vergil into the guts. Once again Vergil took one step back while turning around, before his own foot connected with Corvus jaw, sending the man flying to the floor. For a moment the world turned black before he felt himself gripped by the neck. He was pulled from the ground forcefully and his feet found only air as he kicked out. He hit the table once again, his face crushing onto the surface and for a moment he thought that his nose was broken. He felt Vergil's arm on his neck as the others body pressed into his, keeping him in place. With great effort Corvus turned his head to look over his shoulder, glaring at the angry face of Vergil.

 

“I own you”, he simply told him, his voice quiet. “Have you forgotten?”, he asked the man beneath him as his left elbow dig between his shoulder blades which earned him a groan. “Well?”, he asked him again, using more pressure.

 

“No!” Pain was showing in Corvus' voice.

 

Vergil released him, but as Corvus slowly rose, he grabbed him by the neck again, turning him around as he slammed him back onto the table, his hand pressing onto his chest. Vergil's gaze dipped lower.

 

“You're sick”, he told him, a low smile spreading over his face as his hand on Corvus chest stroke lower until it reached the bulge of his groin. His hand closed and he squeezed, hard, while a yelp escaped Corvus lips.

 

“What the...!”

 

Still holding him in his grip, Vergil dipped lower until his lips almost touched one of his ears. “Never try to hit me. Just don't.” His words icy, his voice only a low growl as his fingers once again tightened their grip. Sweat was dripping down Corvus brow, his face drown of all color. His breathing came rapidly as his teeth were clinched together.

 

“Let go”, he finally told him, pain showing all over his face.

 

And Vergil did. He drew back, straightening his clothes as he stared at the demon underneath him who slid down the table onto the ground, holding his crotch in agony.

 

“It's not like I have a choice. This is my burden as I am my father's heir.”

 

Corvus spit out before he looked up, anger flashing behind his eyes but he reminded silent.

 

“What will it be? Do you stay? Or do you leave”, he asked him.

 

His breathing heavy, Corvus stood up, holding himself upright with the help of the table.

 

“I'll stay.”

 

“Good”, Vergil hummed and shot him a look. “Get your gear, we go climbing today.”

 

 

***

 

 

 

The city was still the same since the last time he had visited it. The mountains around the city rose like a wall, its tips already covered with snow. The air smelled of pines and freshly fallen rain. The buildings looked old, the paint was mostly splintered from the woods, leaving it exposed to the rain and snow; it had already started to rotten. When he was a kid the town was full of life and it had seemed big and foreign to him; so much different than the high and ancient buildings made out of stone in Fortuna. Now it seemed like coming straight from one of his nightmares. Most shops were closed, there were only a few trucks and cars parked at the side of the street, even less people were walking around. Hill Creek Water was slowly dying.

 

“What a dump”, Dante murmured, taking in the sight before him as he passed Nero.

 

“A couple of years ago Hill Creek Water was booming. Tourists were coming here for hunting and fishing. There's a lake nearby with summer camps for children and in winter you could take the lift for skiing”, Nero told him, losing himself in the images of the memories that played behind his eyes. He had loved Hill Creek Water as a child, during the summer he had often come there. He had always felt drawn to the place but as he got older he'd never came back until now. He somehow had the feeling as if he was catapulted back into his childhood even though the small city looked nothing like in his memories. It still felt nostalgic for him and a low chill crawled up his spine.

 

 

“No offense kid, but this place looks more like its best days are over.”

 

Nero shot him an angry gaze which Dante ignore, but before he could throw an insult at him, Lady put her arm around Nero's shoulders. “So what happened here?”

 

Nero shrugged, “I dunno...”

 

 

“Does there still a motel exist?”

 

 

“Well, there should... I saw a sign when we entered the city limits”, Nero murmured, rubbing his chin. “When I've been here as a child we always stayed at the camps out in the woods near the lake and-”

 

 

“Well, this looks nice”, Danter interrupted him, a wild grin spreading over his face and he mentioned towards a building which honestly looked like it would fall apart any minute. Compared to all the other buildings it really did look nice. It was an old little yellow painted house which, yes, looked ready to collapse but it reminded Nero of those houses he'd seen in his storybooks as a child. There was a low wooden fence surrounding the small front yard and it looked so oddly out of place that he almost laughed. It had a porch and there was curtains hanging in the windows with small patterns made out of flowers.

 

“It's a Bed'n'Breakfast “, Lady noted with a slight snarl, her arms crossed in front of her chest. “And it looks like as if it's for honeymooners.” Dante wrapped his arm around her shoulder, gently guiding her towards the small building. “Aw, come on Lady, I know that deep, deep inside of you is a little girl who's actually squealing right now.” Lady shoved him but grinned. “Shut the fuck up”, she murmured and Nero followed them as they knocked on the door.

 

An elderly woman was answering, her head the first part of her body who appeared as she pulled the door slightly open, then stepped outside with a small smile on her face. Her hair was completely white, her eyes a pale blue and she wiped her hands on the white pinafore she wore above her blue dress. “May I help you?”, and while she was still smiling, Nero didn't miss the suspicious look she gave them – especially Dante.

 

He stepped forward, deciding to take the lead.

 

“Yes, we need some rooms.... I guess we can share”, he said thoughtfully as he turned to look at Dante and Lady. “We need two. Do you have any available?”

 

The old lady gave him a warm smile. “Well yes of course darling. At this time of the year there are hardly any tourists visiting the city.

 

“Great”, Nero smiled and went inside with her, Dante and Lady giving him a wary look but they followed him. When everything was dealt with and they had been showed to their rooms, Nero found himself alone with Dante, standing in front of a single kingsized bed.

 

“Great”, he huffed, dropping his bag on the floor. “There's not even a couch in here so I guess we have to share”, he said as he watched Dante standing in front of the window, staring outside and down on the street.

 

He waved his hand at Nero. “Don't feel flattered honey I won't get you flowers in the morning”, he said but his voice didn't sound as cocky as usual, more as he wasn't really listening and just automatically responding. “How long does it take C to hide the equipment?”, he grumbled.

 

Nero flopped onto the bed, his legs hanging over the edge and his arms crossed behind his head. “Why do you even care? It seems to me you wouldn't be so sorry if something happened to him.” Nero had his eyes closed, his breaths deep and even. It had been a long ride and Dante's and Lady's constantly nagging at each had been tiring.

 

“As long as he's of value to us I do care”, murmured Dante, pulling back the curtains to get a better view. “Let's just hope he didn't do anything stupid.”


End file.
